The Unveiling of Secrets
by Roseingarden
Summary: Chrissie de Changy attends a reunion at the Opera Populaire with her parents Raoul and Christine. She finds herself the victim of too many hidden secrets. She runs away, only to be kidnapped by a mad man. Angrier than ever, can she find a way to escape?
1. Chapter 1

With an icy overcast, the morning wind blew hard, scattering everything in its path. The leaves danced in the sky, dressed in fall colors. A golden carriage pulled up on the bustling street, stopping in front of a large building. Both sides of the carriage were surrounded by other carriages. Men dressed in red unloaded luggage and escorted men and women inside out of the wind.

Raoul de Changy wasted no time stepping out of his carriage. After spending hours riding in the carriage's cramped quarters, he was ready to stretch his legs. His dainty wife, Christine, followed his lead. Stepping softly out of the carriage, she touched his arm. Together, they silently stared at the building known as the Opera Populaire. They had been away for a very long time.

Their daughter, Chrissie, wrapped her coat tightly around her, gathered her skirts about and descended the carriage. Her feet plopped on the cobble streets, breaking the silence. She glanced at the opera house before asking, "Why we are here again, mother?"

Christine turned to look at her daughter. "We've told you Chrissie, a opera house reunion is being held in honor of the building's reconstruction." In a lower voice she added, "It looks exactly as it did before."

Looking away, the girl grimaced. She had enough clothing packed for three weeks time, but she doubted the opera house could hold her attention that long.

Smiling fondly at his daughter, Raoul answered her silent question. "Don't worry little Chrissie, I think you'll find some way to enjoy yourself. I have faith in you that within a few days, you'll have found trouble." A frown creased across his forehead. "I wonder…"

Christine met her husband's gaze. She shook her head.

Chrissie resisted the childish urge to glare at her parents. She hated when they kept secrets from her, especially when they spoke right in front of her.

"Isn't it magnificent?" Christine finally asked.

"It's very, big." Chrissie stumbled. In a sudden blast, the wind blew off her hood. Her skits swirled up, and she had to fumble to keep them down

One of the men dressed in red beckoned to the family as two more began to unload luggage from the carriage. As they walked up the steps leading to the wide, open doorway, Chrissie took in her surroundings. The large building was impressive, she noted. The walls looked as if they were gold. Dozens of tiny windows wove in and out between the walls. But the way her parents had spoke of it, Chrissie had half expected the Opera house to look like heaven itself. She suspected that it was not the building but memories and emotions that had made her parents go on and on.

Inside, the entryway was crowed. It seemed that more than a few people had decided to attend the reunion. She was surprised to note that in addition to the men and women dressed in rich clothing, many middle class citizens also wandered about. They seemed very out of place; never had she seen such a place as elegant as the Opera Populaire, save Versailles which she had seen only once a very long time ago. The sparkling staircase looked as if it had cost a million francs by itself.

An obese woman wrapped in a fur coat bumped into Chrissie. Caught off balance, she stumbled forward. Reflexively, she grabbed onto Raoul's arm to steady herself. For the hundredth time, she envied her mother. Christine was known for her grace and poise, and had no trouble keeping her balance. The gift of grace had not been bestowed upon Chrissie, despite the dance training she had received early on in her childhood.

"Careful Chrissie, I wouldn't want you to fall and be trampled." Raoul winked at her.

"That would not be very dignified." Chrissie agreed.

"There are worse things than to lose your dignity, even in Paris. How do you like the opera house?"

"There are a lot of chandeliers." She murmured, still awestruck.

Raoul laughed. "That there are my dear. Remember though, you haven't even seen the stage yet." He turned to his wife, only to discover she was already chatting with an old friend.

From behind her Chrissie heard her mother introduce her to someone named Meg. Quickly she turned to face the pair seeing a blond woman her mother's age. Politely, she smiled and curtsied.

"Oh Christine, she looks just like Raoul!" Meg gushed, smiling at her friend.

"Yes she is a splitting image of him. They have the same hair, and she also has his eyes."

Chrissie held in a sigh. These conversations were getting old. Everyone was always astonished that Chrissie looked nothing like her mother. In the back of her mind she wondered how many introductions she would be forced to endure over the next weeks. Her attention strayed to her surroundings. A man in red was directing people to go up the stairs to the bedrooms that had been added in the renovation. After the reunion the opera house would be used primarily as a hotel for tourists. Most of the opera house had been completely redesigned, however, some of the original structure had remained in place such as the hallways and corridors near the old ballet dormitories.

"How old are your children?" Christine asked Meg. Chrissie recognized the hint of jealousy in her voice. When Chrissie had been born, the physician who delivered her had predicted she wouldn't survive. Yet, even though she was a tiny and sick baby, she lived. The physician had called her a miracle. Unfortunately, Christine was not able to have anymore children, leading her to become extra protective of Chrissie, her only daughter.

"Beau is near sixteen. Quite a handsome young fellow, I might add. He takes after his father that way. Aimee is twelve and Sophia is seven. How old is Chrissie?"

"Chrissie is fifteen; it's amazing how fast she is growing up. Though I must admit she has a very sharp tongue." Christine smiled. "Remind you of anyone?"

Meg laughed. "When we were children you were timid at times, but on occasion you were very bold." Turning to Chrissie she grinned. "Remind me to tell you some stories of your mother later. Did she ever tell you about the time she stole a cake from the kitchen to feed a flock of blue birds?"

Her eyes widened. It was hard for her to imagine her mother as being anything other than dignified and calm.

"Let's not inspire Chrissie to cause any more trouble." Christine blushed at the reminder of the memory. "Can you believe it's really been seventeen years since the fire?" Her voice was filled with wonder.

"I don't want to believe it was so long ago. In a way it was a lifetime ago, yet it could have been last year. Seventeen years sounds like a very long time."

Raoul cleared his throat. "Ladies, I don't mean to interrupt but there will be plenty of time to catch up later. For now let's find out where we will be staying. Our luggage should already have been delivered."

Christine and Meg hugged each other while Chrissie took a step forward towards the stairs. The crowd was beginning to thin as more people found their way upstairs or migrated out the door though the sound of voices loudly echoed off the high ceiling.

"Do you know which operas will be performed during the week?" She asked him as they walked.

"I believe the schedule will be announced today at dinner. I'm hoping to see a mix of classics and a few new operas that are touring in this area." He responded while taking Christine's arm in his.

When they discovered the suite Chrissie was again taken back by the fine furnishings inside. She was accustomed to wealth but even the mere color of the walls looked fantastic. The tables, chairs and couches were worth more than Chrissie could imagine. The maids had already lit the fireplace and drawn hot baths in the bathrooms adjourning the bedrooms.

Quickly, she shed her heavy garments and allowed the water to soothe her skin and aching muscles. The carriage ride from Lyon had been rough.

The bath water smelled sweet. The scent was violet, her favorite flower. The room was decorated with roses and candles and the scene was very relaxing. Because a maid wasn't around, she bathed herself. She took her time untying her hair ribbons and taking out her hair pins. Long hair swirled down into the water. Her hair was a dirty-blonde color unlike her mother who had dark brown locks. Also, Christine's hair was all curls while Chrissie's was bone straight.

Time passed quickly, and all too soon the water lost its heat. Chrissie dried herself with a rose scented towel. Carefully, she squeezed the water out of her hair before braiding a lose braid down her back. After ten hours of traveling she was exhausted. Raoul had arranged for them to travel the five hundred kilometer distance during the night. Rest inside the carriage had been nearly impossible.

Eager to take a nap she quickly slipped on her silk night gown and lay on the violet bed coverlet. She climbed under the blankets letting the morning events sink in. _Maybe this trip won't be so bad after all._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sunlight streamed in through the thick drapes. Chrissie blinked her eyes. How long had she been asleep?

A maid was preparing a bath. When the girl noticed Chrissie was awake, she scurried to the bedside.

"Good morning mademoiselle." She curtsied. "Je suis Jenny. Do you wish to bathe now?" Again, she curtsied.

Chrissie studied Jenny. She didn't look as if she had twelve years. A young English girl, with a mixed accent. Her eyes were a soft brown; her hair was auburn and her skin a pasty white color.

"Oui, I will bathe now."

Jenny helped Chrissie out of her night dress. The bath was much shorter than her last, but still it was refreshing.

A sudden thought crossed her mind-Meg had never had the water she had requested delivered. _I'll mention it to mother._

Jenny plaited Chrissie's hair into a tight braid. Chrissie's long blonde hair bounced at her waist. Friends and relatives always commented on how Chrissie resembled only Raoul and not Christine. Personally, Chrissie didn't think it mattered which parents she looked like, and had grown to loathe gossip. If the fact that she didn't resemble Christine mattered so much, what would they think when they learned Chrissie had not inherited the ability to sing!

Jenny picked out a sea green dress with crimson trim for Chrissie to wear. It was one of her favorites. Chrissie noticed it odd that her maid didn't insist on Chrissie wearing a corset. It then dawned on her that half of Paris was probably talking about the _incident_ yesterday. Her mother's fame always reaped problems for Chrissie.

Trying not to think of all the extra gossip she would have to endure, Chrissie smiled.

"Merci for your help, Jenny."

"Your welcome mademoiselle." Jenny curtsied. "Do you need anything else, mademoiselle?"

"I ask only that you call me Chrissie. Mademoiselle is too fancy a title for me. Oh, and unless someone else is with us, you need not curtsy."

"As you wish, Chrissie. If you don't need anything else, I'll be on my way." Jenny scurried away through the back door.

No sooner had Jenny left, Christine knocked.

"How are you feelings sweetie? I told the maids not to wake you."

Chrissie hugged her mother. "I feel much better today except I am a bit hungry. Hunger pains have been plaguing me for the last half hour. I feel as if I haven't eaten in ages!"

Christine laughed. "That may be true. Come, we are about to leave for late breakfast."

They joined Raoul in the parlor and together left for the dinning hall. After stopping a few times to chat with old friends, they entered the dinning hall just as Meg and her family was sitting down.

Chrissie found herself between Beau and Sophia. Beau kept glancing at Chrissie, when he thought she wasn't looking. Finally she asked him why he was staring.

He sighed. "I have heard a lot about Christine Daae. I never imagined I would dine with her daughter."

Trying her best not to roll her eyes she muttered, barely audible, "I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to stare."

He cleared his throat and turned away, embarrassed. Chrissie couldn't have cared less.

"Mademoiselle?" Chrissie felt a small hand tap her shoulder. She turned to face Sophia.

"Oui?" Silently she wondered what the little girl thought of her.

"Do you sing?" She bluntly asked, drawing the attention of everyone within earshot. Chrissie could have died. Quickly, she tried to think of an excuse.

"Who doesn't sing?" She managed a nervous smile hoping Sophia would be satisfied.

"I can sing." The little girl responded. Sophia started to sing right then at the table.

Chrissie swallowed, wondering whether or not this was good. After a few short moments of debate, she decided that Sophia breaking into song was good because it diverted attention away from her.

The adults smiled at Sophia, encouraging her to continue. Chrissie guessed they allowed her singing because of the reunion. Everyone seemed more relaxed than usual as they enjoyed their time at the reunion

When Sophia finished her song, everyone cheered and applauded, laughing together like old friends. Sophia beamed, proud of herself. The little girl's voice was childish, but the notes were pure. _Someday, she'll be a singer, like her mother. _A lump formed in her throat. _Like my mother._

Chrissie sat in the library with the other young people. Some of the boys were playing chess; some were chatting and making friends. Some of the girls gossiped; some were chatting and flirting with the boys. Chrissie was listening to a girl named Lynette talk.

Originally, Chrissie had been reading, but when Lynette came over and started chatting, she hadn't wanted to be rude. So far, Chrissie had learned that Lynette had an older brother off at a University and Lynette was preparing to go to an English finishing school. Apparently, Lynette's mother was English and wanted Lynette to spend time in school with other English girls. Lynette was nervous but excited as well.

Chrissie's thoughts wandered, tuning out Lynette's relentless chatter.

"You are Christine Daae's daughter." Chrissie looked up relived that someone finally saw that she resembled her mother.

"Oui, I am Chrissie. To whom am I speaking?"

The boy smiled. "I am Christophe. I saw you with your family yesterday." Chrissie's heart sank. He didn't see any resemblance. Most likely he _had_ seen her faint. She felt her cheeks turning scarlet.

Christophe fidgeted. "I just can't imagine what it must be like for you, being her daughter. I mean…"

A confused frown wrinkled Chrissie's brow. "What do you mean? I am no different then any other person in this room."

He murmured five quiet words. Words that everyone had been dieing to say right from the start but hadn't. "The phantom of the opera."

Chrissie laughed. "You don't really believe in phantoms, do you? They're just stories nursemaids tell children. I suppose now you'll be telling me ghosts are real."

The other young people gathered around, listening to the conversation.

"How could you of all people not believe? Haven't your parents…"He abruptly stopped mid sentence, silencing the room.

"Haven't my parents, what? Told me ghost stories? No, of course not. Why would they?"

Christophe turned to his friend Laurent. They shared a grin. Behind them someone whispered, "She doesn't know."

Chrissie rolled her eyes. It was a known fact that Raoul and Christine kept secrets from her, but not about ghosts and phantoms. They didn't believe in such supernatural creatures. Or at least, that was what she thought.

The whispers circulated around the room.

"Someone should tell her."

"How could she not know?"

"Are you sure she is really Christine's daughter?"

Finally, she could take no more. "Alright everyone, I don't know about any phantoms. I have never believed in such things before and I don't intend to start now. But, if it will please you, you may tell me the story. I gather you all know the story quite well?"

Christophe opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a butler who knocked on the door.

"Excuser moi, but your presence is required in your suites."

Chrissie climbed the stairs, inwardly laughing at the irony of the situation. Just when she had become curious…But chances were in her favor that someone would tell her sooner or later. But really, it was only a rumor. It shouldn't matter. But it did. Even though she'd never breathe a word, she needed something to believe in, even if it was just a rumor. The secrets were slowly killing her inside, piece by piece. Angry tears threatened to fall. Her parents had never trusted her with any information. Sometimes she felt as if she was a prisoner in her own home. _Oh, why don't they trust me?_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jenny gently unbraided Chrissie's hair. With skilled fingers, she pulled it up and tied it with a blue ribbon. She helped Chrissie into a pale blue dress. Without the corset, Chrissie could actually breathe, but still she took care to remember her fan. Glancing in the mirror as Jenny reapplied some light face paint, she couldn't help but admire the reflection.

"Jenny, you work miracles!"

Jenny beamed. "If you weren't already so pretty, you might not think so."

Chrissie twirled, sending her skirts flying. Her mood had dramatically changed. She skipped out of her room into her mother's.

Christine's maid was putting the finishing touches on Christine's hair.

"Mother, you look lovely." Chrissie smiled.

Christine smiled back. "Thank you, sweetie. You look lovely too. Your dress however, is a few inches short."

Chrissie glanced downwards. The hem of her dress flittered a few inches higher than customary.

"After the reunion is over, we'll go buy you some new dresses." Christine smiled at Little Chrissie. "Not so little anymore." She whispered.

"What was that mother?"

"Oh, never mind dear. It doesn't really matter."

* * *

Raoul sat waiting for Christine and Chrissie. Some days it seemed as if they took hours to prepare.

"Raoul, oh my goodness, if it really you?" A woman warmly greeted.

Raoul returned her greeting. "Catherine, it has been too long."

"It has Raoul," She paused. "How is...oh I shouldn't ask. It isn't my place."

"She's better than ever." He smiled. "I expect it has been hard on you? How many years has it been?"

"Fifteen years, I can barley believe it. How time does fly. Soon, we'll be in our graves."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Christine and Chrissie enter the room. "Well, it's been good talking to you; perhaps we can catch up later." They abruptly turned away and walked in opposite directions.

Christine hugged Raoul warmly. She noticed it odd that he almost stiffened. _He must be slightly impatient with me. I did take longer than usual._

"Shall we head to the dinning hall before I collapse from hunger?" Raoul joked. Christine laughed and took his arm.

Chrissie felt she was being stared at. She turned and glanced back. Sure enough, a woman in the far corner of the room was staring at her. She looked as if she were middle aged, and was slightly round. Her hair was strikingly blond and almost looked familiar. She tried to recall the woman as she hurriedly followed her parents, but could not.

A sigh escaped her lips. A long drawn out afternoon awaited her.

* * *

The afternoon was even duller than Chrissie had imagined. Chrissie sat with her parents in the music room. It seemed as if they never ran out of people to chat with or things to say.

Every now and then a person would turn to speak to her. Chrissie used her society smile to hide her boredom. A few people dared to comment on her appearance, and every time Chrissie's blood would boil.

Finally, Chrissie could take no more.

"Mother I'm feeling slightly ill. Would it be alright if I retire to my room?" Chrissie crossed her fingers behind her back.

"Do you need me to come with you? Do you need to see a doctor? We can still arrange…"

"I think I'll we feel better after a short nap. I can manage on my own." Politely, she curtsied and left.

However, she didn't feel like napping or another quiet activity. Instead, she chose to explore the hallways.

After about twenty minutes of wandering, Chrissie stumbled across the grand stage. Even though most of the room was a black ash color, the stage had been rebuilt after a fire had destroyed it years ago. The stage has been rebuilt for sentimental reasons only. There were no plans to reopen the Opera Populaire and most likely, no one would perform on the stage ever again.

Chrissie walked to the middle of the room. She wondered how the chandelier had fallen out of the ceiling. A huge gap was present in the ceiling, where the chandelier had hung.

Walking closer to the stage, Chrissie noticed how high off the ground it was. A step-stool had been conveniently left over in the corner. She grabbed it and used it to climb up onto the stage.

Once up on the stage, she was awe struck. _How frightening it must have been for the performers to perform on the stage in front of so many people. _

* * *

A bottle shattered against a wall. The pieces of glass fell to the floor, resting upon years of built up filth. The surrounding area was no better. Pig pens were cleaner.

The enraged man paced back in forth. He felt like a caged animal. The isolation was killing him.

Everything had been fine before the reunion. He could hear them, laughing and chatting. It was wrong for them to be so merry, and him so miserable.

"I am not going crazy!" He screamed. His voice echoed throughout the cavern. "I am not going crazy." His heavy breathing slowed. "All I need is a friend. Yes, that's it. A friend. Someone who won't care about my past, present or future. Yes, a friend is what I need." He leaned against a wall. "A friend."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Christine sat with Meg talking. Meg's daughter Aimee sat off to the side, with her needlework. Sophia played quietly with her dolls on the floor with another little girl, Michèle. Beau sat near his father, across the room.

Christine tried to concentrate on what Meg was saying. She did her best not to feel jealous that her friend had a happy family and all she had was Chrissie and Raoul.

"Christine? Christine are you listening to me?" Meg recognized the far away look Christine had when she was deep in thought.

Christine jerked back to reality. She would never have a family like Meg's; it was not practical to wish for one. "I'm sorry Meg. Lately I have had a hard time concentrating on anything."

Meg cocked an eyebrow. "Oh really? I think everyone here has the very same problem."

"I can't say I'm surprised. We almost didn't attend the reunion." Glancing around the room she continued. "I see many friends in this room, but we are missing many as well. It's as if this place is haunted." She shuttered.

Meg hugged Christine. "It's alright, Christine. You're too hard on yourself. I know you blame yourself for everything. Look on the bright side, Chrissie is fine and no one else knows anything besides the rumors..."

"I worry so much about Chrissie. She's so tiny and weak. Not that she would ever let you know. Such a strong willed girl but she's very sweet. I wonder what her future will be."

"Christine, Chrissie is not sick anymore. She's just a petite young woman." A mischievous smile formed. "Is she sweet on anyone?"

Christine gasped in mock shock. "We shouldn't gossip about such things." She giggled like a school girl. "I know not of any boy who has stolen her heart. But I fancy she has stolen a few." She nodded towards Beau.

It was Meg's turn to laugh. "Yes, I think you may be right." She was silent for a moment. "They'd make a good pair."

"Yes, I think so too. He can only hope she likes him, otherwise she wont have it. Like I said, she's very stubborn."

Sophia and Michèle started arguing. "Well," Meg began, "I think the children have had enough socializing. "I better take them back to our suite. By the way, aren't they lovely? When we were in ballet we had a very old room."

Christine laughed. "Figures they remodel _after_ we leave. I'll miss your company but I had better go check on Chrissie."

* * *

Chrissie stood still in the middle of the stage. Her muscles twitched as she tried to resist the urge to dance. After a few moments of pure agony, she gave in and began to dance.

She started out slow and safe but gradually danced bigger and more daring. Within minutes she had forgotten everything. The stage no longer seemed huge, and she used up most of it twirling and jumping. Her dress restricted some of the ballet steps. Chrissie hiked up her skirts in an effort to gain more mobility, praying no one would walk in and see her.

Normally, Chrissie hated to dance without music, but right now for some reason it didn't matter. She threw back her head and laughed. Unable to controlling her joy, she plopped down on the stage and gasped for air, still laughing.

Even though no one was around, Chrissie could feel another presence. At first she had ignored the sensation figuring it was her imagination. But the feeling was getting stronger; she could almost reach out and touch the sensation and it would feel real.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. Much time had passed since she had left the others. By now, it was likely someone had come to check on her. A lump formed in her throat. Christine was going to kill her if she found out she had lied.

Jumping off the stage she sailed through the doors into the hallways. _I'm going to make it. I can't be late. _She paused and leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. _Now I remember why I hate running. It has always been so hard._

After ten minutes of running in circles, she finally found the right hallway and set of stairs. She burst into the suite. Raoul jumped to his feet. Christine was pacing the floor.

"Where the hell did you go? You said you were coming here, but the maids haven't seen you in hours. What has gotten into you?" He yelled at her grabbing her by the arm.

"Raoul, don't…" "Christine stay out of this!" He interrupted. Turning back to Chrissie he grabbed her shoulders. "What were you thinking?"

Chrissie trembled. She had never seen her father this angry before. He rarely yelled at her, and had never hurt her. "I'm sorry father." She began shaking uncontrollably. Her breathing had not returned to normal yet. "Really, I was coming here. I just got side-tracked. Then I got lost…"

"You got _side-tracked_? See to it you do not get side tracked ever again!" He slapped her hard. She fell backwards, smacking the back of her head on a chair leg. Christine whimpered across the room.

Fear pounded in Chrissie's chest. _What's going on? What's wrong? I don't understand_.

Raoul pointed a finger at Chrissie. "You won't leave this room until our bags our packed and we leave." He turned away from Chrissie and stormed out of the suite.

Christine stood frozen in her spot. "Chrissie, why now? You know better. Not right now, for god's sake if not my own." She slammed the door of her room, leaving Chrissie alone.

Carefully, Chrissie picked herself up. _I think I might be schizophrenic._ Try hard as she could, she could not produce a laugh, or even a smile. Locking the door to her room, she stripped off the dress, and looked for bruises. Sure enough she saw injuries that would soon turn to bruises.

Her pride was beginning to crumble. She had heard of abusive fathers, but never dreamed hers could be. _Something must have happened, something that would make him mad. He was just taking his anger out on me. _Chrissie sat on the edge of her bed. _I am strong. I'll be a little bruised but I will live._ Finally, she could not fight the tears and began to sob.

She crawled under the bed blankets and cried herself into a black sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A man lay crumpled against a wall. His eyes were half closed; his body was perfectly still. However, his mind was anything but still.

Yesterday, quite by accident, he had seen a young girl dancing. Her body had been perfectly relaxed and her face contained an expression of pure joy. Without a doubt, she would make a perfect companion.

The only question was how to convince her. It wouldn't be easy. Most likely she wouldn't like him. The only way would be too take her, by any means necessary, without anyone else noticing.

No one would suspect where she was. Even if they did, there would be no way they'd find the way down to his lair. The old passage ways no longer existed. When the Opera Populaire had been abandoned, he had used the opportunity to reconstruct the hidden walls and passages ways. The only way a person could find the way would be if they had studied the blueprints.

In addition, he had added many traps for the unsuspecting as well as deepen the surrounding lake.

The morning was early and everything silent and still. He guessed it was dawn outside. Soon, people would begin to start their days. Their lives would begin where the left off the night before. The people would cook meals and clean their homes. The privileged rich would order their servants around as if they were no better than scum.

Someone had forgotten to tell the rich how much nicer the poor lived. Rosey checked children would play outside after chore time as opposed to sitting inside listening to mindless chatter. Society had a way of wrecking all peace of mind with manners and etiquette.

Of course, the poorer people worked harder and suffered terribly. But in spite of the cold and hunger pains they felt, they were happy.

He imagined himself living in the hills. Inside the kitchen his wife was cooking breakfast. His daughter Cécile was tending to the baby Émilie. As he walked outside he saw his son Isaac dutifully gathering wood. Luc sat on the ground, engrossed in the book he was reading. In the background, birds sang, adding the beauty of the peaceful scene.

A single tear slid down his check. Never would he live like that. No matter how bad he wanted it, his life would be forever consumed by darkness.

* * *

Chrissie awoke feeling stiff and groggy. Her checks were red and puffy to go along with her swollen eyes. Slowly, she forced herself out of bed. The room was cold and she shivered. She wore only a light chemise.

Once again, she examined her body. She was not surprised to see that a few of her injuries were already turning to bruises. The back of her head was also bruises from when she had fallen and hit the chair. It ached painfully.

Without warning, her legs gave out and she fell to her knees. Chrissie cried silent tears.

Finally, with one last shudder, she stood. Careful to mind her balance, she dressed. Amazingly, she tied her corset up without assistance. _God must be on my side. _Chrissie smiled for the first time that day.

Sitting back down on the bed, Chrissie brushed her hair. Selecting a ribbon she started to put it up, but changed her mind and left it down. The blonde locks reached well below her waist.

Chrissie splashed cold water on her face but it was still obvious she had been crying. Her shoulders sagged. It didn't matter what she looked like because she had no where to go. No one would be looking at her. She was trapped in her own room.

* * *

Raoul woke from his sleep on the floor. He tried to remember where he was. His mind was fuzzy. An empty bottle lay near his head on his left. On his right lay the figure of his late night companion. He stoked her as she slept. Hazily, he wondered where Christine was. _It's a shame her hair isn't pretty and blonde. It's no surprise Chrissie's a blonde. _

* * *

Chrissie sat on the floor reading a book. She heard a soft knock on the back door.

"Come in." She called, expecting to see Jenny. She jumped when she saw it was not Jenny, but instead it was Beau. "How may I help you?" she asked, not knowing what else to say.

Beau also knew not what to say. "Err, well, you see, I…"He stuttered trying to find the right words.

Chrissie glanced down and rolled her eyes. When was he going to figure out she wasn't interesting in him?

"I have a very interesting book I'm reading, so if you don't have anything to say, you can leave."

"I didn't realize you could read upside down."

Chrissie's cheeks flamed. Quickly, she flipped the book over, muttering to herself.

Beau took in a deep breath. "Actually, I was wondering if you would consider joining me in the parlor."

_This is sad. He seems so genuinely nice too. _She flashed her society smile. "I'd love to, really I would. You see, there is one small problems." Chrissie watched with hidden delight as Beau's hopeful smile faded. "Because of issues regarding my health, my father has asked me too stay here. He doesn't want me to exert any excess energy. I might be coming down with the flu."

"Well, if you change your mind..." He started not trying to hide his obvious disappointment.

"If I change my mind, you will be the first to know." Chrissie promised. She silently giggled as he fled her room, knowing it might be her only entertainment all day.

She tried to read some more, but couldn't concentrate on anything. She threw herself on a couch in the sitting room and did not move for hours. Jenny brought her some food, but she did not eat. With the exception of seeing Christine and Jenny once each, she was alone.

* * *

The clock struck four in the afternoon. Everything was still. All activity was far away.

Chrissie slid off the couch. Using the back door, she slipped out into the hall. She walked away silently, through the empty hallway. A sudden noise startled her, and she took off running, not much caring where she was going.

An overwhelming trapped feeling spread across her. Closing her eyes, she ran as fast as she could, and smacked into a body.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Chrissie felt arms close around her. She shook uncontrollably and felt her stomach heave up and down. Her corset held in her inside tight, and she could not get enough air. The man holding her did not release her, until she calmed.

Slowly, she lifted her head up to meet his gaze. The man was unfamiliar, and almost looked dangerous.

"Are you alright, mademoiselle? You look like a frightened mouse." The strange man asked with a strained voice.

Any feelings of security she had, vanished. Rapidly, she took a step back. The strange man looked like he was over due for a shave. She looked around to see if anyone else was around. They were alone.

"Don't be frightened. I won't hurt you." He took a step towards Chrissie.

Not wanting to find out if he was honorable, she turned around and fled in the opposite direction.

Inwardly, she moaned. When she had run into him, the impact had caused the man to rotate direction about a third of an angle. She was now running in the opposite direction of her room, and all the people she trusted.

The man swore and charged after her. He was extremely heavy and out of shape, and did not gain any distant between Chrissie.

Chrissie gasped, still running. She had not realized she had the ability to run this fast. A friend back home and mentioned that fear enhances abilities, but Chrissie had not taken him seriously.

The further she ran, the more dirty the hallway became. Chrissie thought it odd that extra maids were not hired to clean the deserted hallways. Chrissie guessed these hallways hadn't been used since the Opera disaster.

Chrissie tried to think of something other than the fact she was being chased down a hall by a man who most likely was drunk. Because Chrissie had not smelled his breath, she had no way to be sure. Either way, it didn't really matter.

Try her very best to ignore the aching pain in her chest, she imaged she was a little girl racing another ballerina across the hall. The fantasy did not last long and Chrissie realized that if she did not stop running soon, she'd pass out.

A figure in black jumped into Chrissie path from out of nowhere. She tried to halt but instead crashed into him, and was thrown to the floor.

The out of breath man behind her cursed, but was able to stop in time.

The figure in black took in the situation instantly.

Chrissie jumped to her feet. Fearfully, she looked them over and almost on cue, passed out, startling both men. The figure in black caught Chrissie before she hit the floor again.

The other man cursed again once again, but turned around and left, breathing heavily.

The figure in black eased Chrissie's weight between his arms and disappeared through his hidden entryway.

* * *

Chrissie moaned. Where the hell was she? Suddenly, her senses returned and Chrissie became aware she was in a strange man's arm. _Am I safe, or is he going to hurt me? _Not wasting any time pondering the situation, she struggled to get out of the stranger's arms.

The man was caught unaware of Chrissie's struggles. He had traveled down into the under ground level of the Opera Populaire carrying Chrissie. Just before Chrissie had come to, he had climbed onto a small boat. Balancing Chrissie's weight on one of his arms, and supporting her with the other, some how he had managed to push the boat through the water. Because the water was so deep, and the pole not very long, he had not been able to go very far.

Chrissie in a furry threw herself foreword, out of the strange man's arms only to pitch straight into the water. He tried to grab Chrissie before she fell into the water, but it was to no avail.

The reality of what she had just done, hit Chrissie too late. _It is very ironic I never learned to swim. _She gasped, swooling water, sinking down to the bottom of the lake.

One swift motion and the man had thrown his cloak off. _She is more trouble than she's worth. _He dove down into the water, cursing everything he could come up within a split second.

Chrissie couldn't breathe. _Why the hell is there a lake here anyway? _Her eyes fluttered shut as she inhaled more water.

His calmness about the situation rapidly disappeared. He felt around in the dark water for her body. He resurfaced before diving back down.

An odd serenity filled Chrissie's numb body. _So this is what it's like to die. _

Just before he was about to give up and resurface again, he felt her. With a surge of strength, he grabbed onto her, and drug her to the surface. He flung her onto the boat. She was unconscious, but thankfully still breathing. He paddled as fast as his arms aloud to the other side.

As soon as approached land, he grabbed Chrissie's limp body and tossed her onto land. With his pocket knife, he sliced through her clothing layers. When he had pulled the damn corset off, he pushed on her chest, helping her cough water up.

Chrissie's slow breathing, gradually sped up as she coughed and spit up water. She sprawled on the ground, still unconscious.

The man sat back on his heels relieved she was not dead. He moved her to a more suitable place, and then went in search of clothing to lend her.

As he bathed Chrissie sometime later, he wondered who she was. She still did not wake. Caringly, he dressed her in some of his older clothes and lay her in the corner propped up with lots of pillows and blankets.

He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and sat in the corner to wait for her to wake up.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Chrissie let out a cry. She pulled herself to her feet, her heart pounding faster with every second. A single candle was lit, making it difficult to see. She squinted her eyes, and spotted the strange man, slumped in the corner.

Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her body, to try and keep warm. A flush crept up her face when she realized that her clothing had been replaced. _How dare he! _A lump formed in her throat. What exactly had he done to her?

On cue, the man opened his eyes. Chrissie took a step back, not wanting to be anywhere near the drunken man. She tripped backwards and fell on her back.

The man rose slowly to his feet, looking Chrissie over. Walking over to Chrissie, he pulled her to up, almost dislocating Chrissie's shoulder.

"What are you doing to me?" Chrissie screamed at him.

The man said nothing. He simply stood in place, staring at Chrissie. It was then Chrissie noticed he was wearing a mask. The cloak that had been hiding his face had fallen away.

Chrissie's jaw dropped. "Wha, who are you?" She stuttered, at a loss for words.

He remained silent, not moving.

"Are you a mute?" Chrissie finally asked.

"No." He answered.

"Then why haven't you answered my questions?"

The man sighed, looking away. "Who do you think I am?"

Chrissie didn't have the slightest idea. "I don't know."

"You're afraid." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes, I am afraid."

"Why?"

This took Chrissie by surprise. "Why shouldn't I be afraid? I wake up in a strange, dark room with a complete stranger after almost drowning." When he did not reply, she continued. "What have you done with my clothing? What am I wearing? It's certainly not proper attire."

"If you had trusted me, you wouldn't have fallen into the water."

"Why should I trust you?"

"What reason have I given for you to not trust me? You ask too many questions. I will find a blanket for you; your hair is wet and you're shivering."

"It's so very nice to know you care." Chrissie answered in a mocking tone. "I want my clothing back, please Monsieur."

The man walked away, without saying another word. He returned with a blanket, thrust it into Chrissie's hands, and walked away again.

Shivering, Chrissie sat down and wrapped herself in the blanket. He wet hair clung to her neck. _I should have put it up instead of leaving it down._

She pondered, trying to think of the worst thing this man could do to her. Since no one knew where she was, most likely no one would find her. He could kill her, or a fate worse than death. This troubled her very much.

He seemed reluctant to tell her anything. She needed to have a name to call him by. The reality of him giving her his real name was slim, so she would need to come up with one on her own. After a few moments of mental debate, she decided to call him Pierre. Pierre meant _stone, _a description that fit him quite well.

Her stomach growled and Chrissie regretted not eating when she'd had the chance. Was Pierre going to starve her?

Chrissie hoped not. Once, she had read in a book that starvation was one of the more unpleasant deaths. If he was planning to kill her, she hoped her death would be quick and painless. _He should have let me drown. _

* * *

The man, Pierre if you would, stared off into empty space. He hadn't expected it to be like this. She wasn't supposed to talk this much. But wasn't that what he had wanted? Someone to talk to.

No. It was too foreign. He didn't talk anymore. Only on special occasion. He didn't even talk to his hired help; they had been working for him so long, they already knew what he needed.

Maybe he should rid himself of her before he got attached. In the span of knowing her a few minutes, he'd saved her life. No, he couldn't get rid of her now, it was too late. She was terrified of him, and fear had a way of allowing irrational acts. That was _not _what he needed to deal with.

_Christine hadn't been scared…_He silently cursed when he thought her name. She was the past, and didn't matter anymore. The music of the night was over. None of that mattered anymore. Only survival mattered.

In the back of his mind, he knew the girl would need something to eat soon. He wasn't used to caring for anyone's needs but his own. This would be a big change. He wasn't sure if he was up to it.

_Oh god, what am I doing? _He pounded himself with his fist. _This is wrong. Oh, so very wrong. _

* * *

Chrissie let the blanket drop to the ground as she stood and stretched. She had spent too much time lying around the past few days. How long had it been since Raoul had lost his temper? A day, maybe two? Chrissie didn't know.

She studied the surrounding area. The dim light did not hide the udder mess of the place. There were broken bottles, pieces of music strewn everywhere, as well as the remaining of candles and meals. Chrissie wrinkled her nose, hoping the place was not filled with insects and small rodents.

Carefully navigating her way, she walked around noting thousands of details. She decided that at one time, the place had been well cared for. Wherever this place was, anyhow. _Perhaps an underground lair or something to that affect? _

* * *

Pierre put together a meal and tossed it onto a tray he found laying under a stack of music. He scurried over to where he had left Chrissie. Setting the tray down he cursed himself for leaving her alone. If she was hiding, it could take a very long time to find her.

He found her standing on an over turned box, reaching for something. When she saw him she lost her balance and came tumbling to the ground, bringing down a shelf full of stuff on top of her.

Chrissie tried not to cry but something hard had cut her neck and she couldn't help it. He dug her out, shaking his head. She lowered her eyes, trying to hide her tears. but he saw them immediately.

"You shouldn't do that. Not again." It was a command.

She nodded, not looking him in the eye. Blood trickled from her neck. Also her knee was bashed up, and her left arm cut. A layer of dust coated her.

"You're hurt."

"Ah, so you're not blind, after all."

He frowned. Leaning closer he tried to remember what the polite thing to do was.

"I want my dress back. This outfit that I am wearing does not fit and is not proper."

"You cannot have your other clothing back."

"Why can't I have my clothing back?"

"Because," He began, "after I pulled you from the water, you were not breathing. I tore your dress and undergarments with a knife to help you breath."

"All of it?" Chrissie's breath caught in her throat.

"Most of it. After I bathed you I supplied you with some of my own clothing. If you do not find it suitable to wear, you need not."

"You _bathed me_? How dare you! If you're looking for someone to indulge yourself with, find a whore!"

"I assure you, removing lake water from your skin was for your own good, not mine. I care not for worldly pleasures from such a young maiden, like yourself."

Chrissie turned three shades of red. She started to reply, but he cut her off.

"Come with me. I prepared you food. You need to eat."

Sulking, she obediently followed him.

He silently motioned towards the food. Chrissie sat down and stared at it.

"Eat it. Tomorrow, we will make plans. Do not go anywhere."

"Wait monsieur. I will require a privy closet."

"Over there, you will find one. When I come back, I expect to find you either here or there. No where else."

Chrissie sighed as she watched him walk away. She had a whole day with nothing to do. _And I thought the reunion was going to be dull and uneventful_!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Chrissie rearranged the pillows. Everything was silent, still and dark. Fluffing a pillow Chrissie tried to remember a time she had felt this bored. Nothing she thought of compared. She'd already tried pacing, but her legs still ached from her fall. Touching her neck Chrissie felt dried blood.

The stranger, whatever his name was, obviously didn't care about her. Soon, she would need more food, and different clothing. Not to mention her hair was an utter mess, and she was badly in need of a maid.

If he didn't even have the decency to remove old candles and wax, her special needs would not set well with him, she decided. The lair was in need of a good cleaning. If she were expected to stay here, something Chrissie had no intention of doing, she would not under any circumstances live in a place so filthy. Also, it was too dark.

_I wonder why he wears a mask. _She lazily slid her good arm in a circle. _I doubt it's a fashion statement or something to that affect. That wouldn't make sense considering he lives done here in isolation. _Chrissie frowned. How could someone live alone, all the time?

_He must be crazy. Yes, he wears the mask because he's crazy. He escaped a mental home and is living in darkness hiding. _She was impressed with her imagination. An old friend, Jules, had once stated she was not very creative. Perhaps he was wrong after all.

Unable to sit any longer, Chrissie stood up. She stretched her arms and yawned. The sole candle was burning low and soon would go out. It was time to light another one.

Ignoring common sense, Chrissie wandered around, searching for more candles to light. A good ten minutes later she returned with an armful of candles. Carefully, she lit and counted all the candles. There were thirteen. She cringed. Normally, Chrissie was not superstitious but now she wasn't so sure.

Cautiously, Chrissie arranged the candles in a circle. She concentrated her gaze into the candles flickering flames. This kept her occupied for a few minutes.

Dismissing her boredom, she wandered around again, this time collecting scattered pieces of sheet music. The dust triggered her senses, and sge coughed and sneezed. The noise echoed, alerting him. Before Chrissie had time to think, he was beside her.

"What are you doing? I told you not to wander." His tone was harsh and uninviting.

"Well, what do you expect me to do? I'm not exactly used to sitting alone in the dark for hours on end, you know." Chrissie's tone was sharp.

He was silent for a moment. "I expect you to do what I ask of you."

"Why should I take orders from you, a crazy man who lives alone in the darkness, hiding in a mask?" She inhaled suddenly, waiting to see his reaction.

"Because." He simply stated, not shocked by her words.

Their eyes locked in an unbreakable stare. She had never seen eyes like his before. He held her in a trance. It was he who broke it.

"Before, you asked my name. I will not prolong this coldness between us by withholding it. My name is Erik."

Chrissie was spellbound. The name Erik fit him much better than Pierre. Still, it seemed too nice for him. His name should be darker, she decided.

"And you, what is your name?"

"My name?" Her voice faltered. Erik nodded.

"Jem'appelle Anne Lemoine." She clumsily curtsied before she realized she was not wearing a dress any more. Instead, she was dressed in men's clothing.

"Anne, such a, common, name.

Chrissie looked away. Behind her back, she crossed her fingers, praying he wouldn't think she was trying to deceive him. Erik was dangerous. She couldn't imagine the consequences of him learning her real name. Surely, nothing good could come out of it.

Desperate to change the subject, Chrissie tried to come up with something else to say. "Do you like music?" She suddenly asked, trying to hide the waver in her voice. Chrissie nodded towards the stack of sheet music she had collected.

Erik's face hardened and without as much as a nod, he turned around and left, leaving Chrissie alone with her curiosity.

* * *

Raoul stared at the wall. Everything was entirely fault. Besides him, Christine sobbed uncontrollably. Chrissie was gone. It was beyond their comprehension.

Guilt and shame pounded in time with Raoul's heart. Honestly, he hadn't meant to lose his temper. It was never his intention to strike her.

Long before Chrissie was born, he had promised Christine he would never do anything to hurt her or the unborn child. He had meant it, with all his heart. He only felt one feeling towards Christine and Chrissie and that was love.

With the past behind him, he had surged foreword attempting to play the role of husband and father, never looking back at his past mistakes.

With every passing year it became more difficult. Of course he had resolved to work harder to hide everything. Perhaps that had been his downfall.

Thinking back, he could remember the first time he had seen Chrissie toddle into his arms. That day, his heart had swelled with pride. He had closed his arms around her, and kissed the top of her head, inhaling her sweet baby scent. She had been so innocent and trusting.

Now his promise to her lay broken on the floor where he had stuck her. What did she think of him now? Tears welled in eyes as he remembered the shocked expression she had wore.

"Raoul," Christine cried out, "Where is my baby? Chrissie, where are you?"

Raoul knelt down and held his wife. "I just don't know Christine. I don't know."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Erik lightly touched Chrissie's shoulder. She woke with a start, crying out in surprise. Erik remained undaunted. He pushed a tray into Chrissie's hands.

Chrissie stared at him as he settled himself on the ground. His eyes never left her face.

Glancing down, Chrissie stared at the food she was expected to eat. The meal looked as if it had seen better days. A brown liquid sloshed around in a chipped mug. The bread roll was crusty and hard and smelled stale. In the middle of the tray in a small bowl was some grey pasty mush that barely resembled gruel. _He expects me to eat this? One thing is for certain, he is not a chef. _

Chrissie's stomach moaned. It was either this food or none. She forced herself mouth to chew; halfway through the meal, she almost vomited.

Erik noted Chrissie's obvious disgust. A person would have to be blind to miss it.

"Since you do not like my food, you can cook and clean then." He rose to his feet.

Chrissie nodded, clutching her stomach. She'd rather work then have to eat another meal prepared by Erik. He obviously lacked talent when it came to cooking as well as cleaning.

He led her to his kitchen. It was very small and could be compared to a large closet. Erik dumped some cleaning supplies at Chrissie's feet and left.

After a few moments of staring at the mess, Chrissie bravely stepped foreword armed with a bucket, bar of lye soap and a rag.

As a young girl she had spent many hours hiding in the kitchen. It had been far more entertaining to watch the servants at work then play the pianoforte. Now, Chrissie had an opportunity to test her knowledge.

First she filled a basin with water. It was only after she had finished that she remembered she needed hot water. Glancing around the kitchen she spotted a large pot. Chrissie carefully filled it with water and placed it on a hook over some dying coals. Using an iron rod, she stoked the coals.

When the water was hot Chrissie filled the basin and began gathering dirty dishes. Armed with soap and a rag she scrubbed until her arms ached. _How do the servants do this? They make it look so easy…_

A few dozen dishes later the soapy water lost the last of its heat. The water in the large pot was also cold but the coals had gone out.

Chrissie sighed. _Now what do I do? _Ignoring the pain in her arms, Chrissie tucked the clean dishes away in a cabinet. She placed the remaining dirty dishes in the basin, after using the leftover soapy water to clean the counter top. To complete the cleaning, she grabbed a broom and began to sweep. Under the dust and dirt she discovered animal droppings and small insects.

When she was satisfied with the kitchen, Chrissie marched out with the intent of leaving behind Erik and all his horrors. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him. Too late she saw him follow her. Frantically, Chrissie picked up her pace and promptly tripped and fell.

Erik placed his hands on her waist and pulled her up off the ground

"Let go of me!" Chrissie screamed at him, swinging her small fist at him.

Erik released his grip on her. The sudden motion caused her to fall again.

"What are you doing?" Erik asked looking down at her.

"Are you blind? Can you no see that I am leaving? Well, no mind, it does not matter." She stood up. "Now, if you do not mind, please move aside and I will be on my way."

"And how do you plan on leaving?"

Chrissie thought for a moment. She had no idea how she was going to leave.

"The only way you will be able to get away is through the lake. The boat is not around but if you would like to swim…" He smiled deviously.

_Damn! He knows I can't swim. _She searched for words to use. "I will walk then."

"You will walk?"

"Yes I will walk."

"You cannot walk."

"Why can't I walk?"

"You want to walk. Fine, then be my guest and walk across the lake. Who am I to stop you? Go ahead; walk if that is what you would like."

Chrissie felt a shiver run down her spine. If this is what it would take to free herself then so be it. The chance of her surviving was very slim. Death seemed a logical escape.

Defiantly, she took a step towards the lake. With her neck high in the air she proudly planted her foot down into the water. Shocked by the chill, she nearly pulled it out. Bravely however foolishly, she wadded until the water reached her knees. Two more steps brought the water up to her chest. Chrissie withheld the shrieks that tried to force their way out of her mouth. A shiver shook her entire body.

Erik called out to her. "It only is going to get deeper. And unless you plan on holding your breath for the next twenty minutes, it's going to be impossible for you to continue to walk. I suggest you come back now."

Chrissie ignored him. Taking a deep breath she stepped foreword again but her feet were so numb she slipped. In an instance she was completely submerged. She panicked. The water was dark and murky; she couldn't see two inches in front of her face. Her lungs inhaled water as she tried to push to the surface.

A pair of strong arms grabbed her waist from behind and lifted her to the surface. _How could he move that fast? _ She spit water and coughed as Erik flopped her onto the hard ground. She expected him to smirk and boast but he remained silent. When her lungs were clear she began to shiver and moan.

Erik lifted Chrissie up into his arms. "You are frozen. I'll prepare a bath for you and find you some dry clothes."

He sat her down on a soft chair. "You look like a drowned rat." He pushed a wet strand of blond hair to the side. Chrissie tried to punch him with her fist but before she could strike him, he was gone.

* * *

A half hour later Chrissie found herself soaking in a hot bath. She forced herself to admin Erik had kind to her. The cruelest deed he had committed was bringing her here. He could hurt her in so many ways but he hadn't.

A brown dress lay on a chair. The design was simple but Chrissie had never seen a more beautiful sight. Erik's old clothes had not suited her at all. How he had gotten her the dress she didn't know; only that she was grateful he had. To complete the outfit, there was a light chemise, stockings and a tiny pair of slippers.

She raked a comb through her damp hair. How she missed her maids with their sweet-smelling potions. Her skin felt dry and her hair was stringy and tangled. Her limbs were sore from lying on the floor and her arms ached from scrubbing.

Chrissie changed her position in the small tub. It was difficult to soak and comb her hair at the same time. Finally, when the warmth had left the water, Chrissie rose. Quickly, she dried off her body and hair, ignoring the cold air. She slipped into her dress, feeling complete again for the first time since Erik had stolen her away.

Once again, she slipped the comb through her hair. When she was satisfied with the way it looked-she was forced to fix her hair without having the luxury of a mirror-she tied it back with a string. With a deep breath, she slipped off to find Erik.

Nearby, Erik sat reading an outdated newspaper. He did not glance up as Chrissie approached him, even after she cleared her throat. "What do you need Anne?" His voice was even and emotionless.

Chrissie studied him. It was almost impossible to tell he had saved her from drowning not even an hour ago. The only slip in his appearance was his damp hair. He had changed into drier clothing. Also, Chrissie noted, he was wearing a different mask. Glancing closer, she noted his face was a pale white color and looked unhealthy. He did not look like a gentleman but more like a beggar in need of a shave. Her eyes drifted down towards his clothing. It was worn but looked fairly comfortable. His shirt looked three times to large, but it was still obvious he was underweight. And there was the mask. Mysterious in it own way. Never had she seen him without it.

"Do you always wear your mask?"

"Yes." Still, he did not glance up.

Not to be discouraged, Chrissie tried again. "That isn't the same mask you were wearing earlier. How many masks do you own? Why don't you wear a full face mask? Why do you wear a mask anyways?"

Erik put his newspaper aside and sat foreword in his chair. Chrissie feared he was upset with her questions, but his face was as cool and calm as ever.

He sighed before answering. "I have a few different masks. I mainly wear this one though. It's more comfortable than the others."

"Oh." Chrissie was silent for a moment. "Who was the other man?"

"What other man?"

"The one in the hallway."

"Oh, _that_ other man."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Who was he?"

"The other man?"

"Yes the other man in the hallway. Who was he? Just tell me who he is and stop being difficult!" Chrissie threw up her hands.

Erik chuckled. "Back before the Opera Populaire's famous fire, he used to work backstage. On the evening of the disaster, I'm told, he was attempting to pull at trapped ballet dancer to safety. A falling beam hit him in the head."

Chrissie shivered. How terrible!

"He passed out. Apparently, the girl pulled him out of the flames. He was in a coma for several weeks. When he awoke he didn't remember anything except his name and this Opera house."

"What was his name?"

Erik thought silently for a moment. "At one time I knew, but now I have forgotten."

Chrissie studied his face carefully. Was that a glimmer she had seen in his eyes? No, it must have been her imagination. He was a cruel and uncaring man. The only reason he had told her the story was because he had wanted to frighten her. Somehow, she wanted to believe he cared. He was so mysterious. How could a man live alone in darkness for so long? What was he hiding behind his mask? Chrissie vowed to find out.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Chrissie's eyelids fluttered. It had been so long since she had slept! Forcing her eyes open, she stared at a rug's design. The mystical shapes and colors swirled around her eyes. She shivered in the cold air. Even with the blanket Erik had kindly given her, it was cold.

Again, she closed her eyes for a moment. Erik gently picked her up. She opened her heavy eyes to look at him. "Put me down Erik. Can't you see I'm studying the rug?"

He chuckled, amused. "Anne, you have been sleeping for the last hour and a half."

She frowned. "No I haven't."

Again he chuckled. "You can sleep. You must be tired."

Not in need of any further encouragement, Chrissie drifted off to sleep. Erik laid her in the corner, atop feather pillows. The blanket he had given her was wrapped tightly around her body. Careful to not wake her, he unwound it and smoothed it over her.

As he moved the candles away from her, he marveled at the change she had brought in him. It had been years since he had been among people. In all the time he did not speak; now he carried on countless conversations. Alcohol had been an escape but since he had kidnapped Anne, he had sipped only a few drinks. And yes, he had kidnapped her. This was a girl with a family and a life. He had forced her away from it all. What of her family? _She is so shielded; they must have loved her a great deal. Whoever her parents are, anyways._

She looks familiar. I can't figure out who she resembles. I must have known her parents. I wonder if her mother was a ballet dancer. It's only fair I not know who she is. She doesn't know who I am. Her innocence shines in her face. How will she react when she learns the truth? Badly, I fear.

What is that, a tear? I cannot keep her here forever. She needs to go back to her loving family. I am only a monster, incapable of love. But I must know, what is it that she suffers? The emotions are well concealed but the barrier is thin. She is too young to known of pain and suffering.

Chrissie awoke without having any idea if it were morning or evening. She had lost all sense of time.

After a few yawns and some stretching, she stood. Her dress clung to her skin and was terribly wrinkled. Doing her best to straighten it out, she reminded herself to sleep in only her chemise for then on.

Her eyes pricked. Was that a female voice? Curiosity got the best of her and she went to investigate. Ducking behind a chair she could see Erik talking with a woman.

She was middle aged and not very pretty. Her features were too sharp; her frame too tall and lanky. The shapeless dress she wore was old and worn. She wore her hair back in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Not a single strand of hair escaped it. She did not smile.

Chrissie could hear Erik talking. His voice was low but his tone was sharp. His face held a cold expression.

_What a strange couple they make, glaring at each other when neither is angry._ After what seemed ages of silence, Erik's mouth formed words.

"I expect you to be back after completing your tasks?"

"Oui monsieur, but my extra services are not cheap."

Chrissie's eyes widened.

Erik produced three coins and set them in her outstretched hand, "My upfront payment. Hurry back and I assure you in addition to your salary, more will be waiting."

Closing her fist the woman stiffly replied, "Good day monsieur. No questions asked." Not needing further encouragement, she left.

Chrissie held her breath.

Erik rolled his eyes. "You can come out now Anne."

Her face heated, Chrissie stood up, revealing her hiding place.

He shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Why mademoiselle, eavesdropping? Must I tie you up?"

She stiffened. He laughed at her, causing her to blush worse. Looking away she changed the subject. "Who was the woman?"

"Ahhh, aren't you a curious mouse. They call her old Millie. She overcharges, but gets the job done."

"Oh? What job would that be?" She raised her eyebrows.

He shrugged. "Whatever I need, she gets. I sent her off with a long list. I'm assuming you'll want food?"

She nodded.

"She has orders to purchase flour, sugar, butter…that sort of thing."

"What of alcohol?"

He smirked. "I didn't realize a lady as high and mighty as you indulged in the spirits."

"Not me, but I was concerned you wouldn't be able to visit the world of the drunk." Her tone was light and hinted strongly of sarcasm.

Once again, he laughed. "I think in time, you and I are going to get along very well Anne." His eyes danced as he watched her stomp off. He hadn't any idea she would be this entertaining.

A few hours later Millie returned. She brought two boys with her to carry the packages. While Erik paid her, Chrissie directed the boys. They were silent.

"How old are you?" She inquired.

The taller one responded without looking at her. "Mademoiselle, I'm a thirteen and my brother is ten."

_Oh my! They are so young; only thirteen and nine years old._ The boys turned to leave.

"Wait! I'm Chrissie. Who are you?"

"Excuse us, mademoiselle." They hurried to Millie, who was waiting impatiently.

Realizing to talk with the boys was impossible, Chrissie wandered back into the kitchen. She began unwrapping the packages and putting away the food.

"I hope you can cook." Erik leaned against the wall, studying her.

"Yes, I can cook a little. I know it might seem strange for a girl of my class to cook. A few years ago I was bored and I begged our chef to teach me. My parents would have had both of our heads if they had known." It felt strange to talk with him so causally. They barley knew each other. "You must have spent a fortune on this! The food will spoil before it's eaten."

"You are a very interesting person, _Chrissie_."

Her heart skipped a beat. She froze, bent over the counter.

Erik continued. "Yes, your little secret is out. Heaven only knows how many more you have."

She chocked back a sob. Grabbing the last package, she ripped it open. Inside were baking ingredients.

"Why didn't you just say your name was Chrissie in the first place? It makes no difference to me."

She broke into tears and sank to the floor.

"Why are you crying? You are the first person to be with me in over a decade. My staff doesn't even look at me. Before you, it was always silence."

"Well that's good for you!" She was shouting. "Maybe you haven't figured it out yet, but I don't care how horrible your life is. I don't like you or anything about you and I want to go home!"

"You can't go home." He told her calmly.

"Why not? Why do I have to stay with you?" She was reaching hysteria. "I miss my mother and my father and my friends and my servants. I don't want to stay with you! I want my old life back!"

"I can't let you tell others about my existence."

"Why would anyone care about you? You're just a crazy old man who lives…" Her face paled. "Oh my god. You, you, you're the phantom of the opera."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11  
The room began to spin. Chrissie sucked in her breath and stuck her head between her knees. As the truth sank in, the dizziness began to subside. "Were you ever going to tell me?" Chrissie's voice shook with every word.

Erik avoided Chrissie's piercing eyes. He spoke slowly, considering every word before he uttered it. "It seems we both have many hidden secrets." His voice trailed off. "I have business to attend to. Be good and try not to get into trouble."

Of course monsieur." Chrissie replied automatically without hearing herself. The shock was too much for her. Even after Erik had left she couldn't move. A half hour past and then another. It was as if nothing could force her to move.  
Laying her head on the cold ground, she felt the pounding in her head lessen. Why had she been so naive? What did he think of her, lying about her name and crying on his kitchen floor? Could he really be the phantom? It sounded absurd and childish. Phantoms existed only in children's nightmares. Erik wasn't a phantom. He couldn't be.

* * *

The young guests gathered around the west parlor. After days of listening to the adults constant chatter, it was time to exchange gossip. The main subject: Chrissie de Changy.

Laurent shook his head. "The phantom had kidnapped Chrissie because she did not believe. Let this serve as a reminder to never doubt the existence of a creature who carries a Punjab." His words were grave. "Chances are that she's dead."

The younger girls gasped and clutched each other. "How horrible!" One girl exclaimed.

"Hush Laurent, you'll scare the younger children with such talk." An older girl standing by an small wooden end table rebuked.

Laurent grinned as he approached her. "But mademoiselle shouldn't they be scared? Chrissie wasn't and look what has happened!"

"We don't know what has happened. She may have run away, or perhaps she was indeed kidnapped but that doesn't mean it was the phantom. We don't know if she is dead or not." Her voice was softer.

He grinned even wider. "If you would like to discuss this more, we can privately meet in my chambers. How about it?" He blocked her path.

Ignoring the laughter from the other children, she politely declined and looked away.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself but it would have been, interesting."

Christophe cleared his throat. "We are getting off topic, don't you think Laurent?"

"Oh well aren't you the diplomat." His tone was curt. In response Christophe frowned, silencing him. Now then, where were we at?"

* * *

Madame Catherine Revel approached the de Changy's chamber. She wanted to speak with Christine and had chosen this time specifically because Raoul was elsewhere. He was not handling Chrissie's disappearance well, but thankfully hadn't done anything rash, yet. She suspected he would soon, as that was his usual course of action. Because of his decisions, she and many others had suffered greatly. In her heart she had not forgiven him, and he would make her visit more difficult.

Taking a deep breath, her hand rose to meet the door's cold wooden frame. She loudly knocked.

Christine rushed to the door almost tripping over her skirts. Hastily she flung it open, desperately praying it was Chrissie or someone with news of her. Her face fell when she saw it was not Chrissie but one of Raoul's old acquaintances.

Catherine could see she was not who Christine was expecting. Christine didn't even pretend she was happy to see her. Thankfully, she was still invited in. "Merci Christine." The door slammed shut behind her, startling her. She followed Christine into the parlor and sat in a chair opposite her.

Christine managed a weak society smile. "What can I do for you, Madame Revel?"

"Please Christine, call me Catherine."

"Catherine, what can I do for you." Her temper was short.

Catherine shifted feeling uncomfortable. Looking away from Christine's sharp gaze, she remembered why she had come. "I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am about Chrissie. I know what its like to lose a child."

Christine's body stiffened. "I didn't realize you had children."

Catherine paused for a moment. "I had a baby once but I was never given the chance to love her. Death creates horrible circumstances." She bit her tongue. She had to choose her words carefully.  
Christine must not suspect anything. Raoul had made that certain so many years ago.

"I'm sorry. It must have been terrible." She sounded cold and uncaring.

Catherine sighed. "I have suffered plenty. I would never wish my pain on any woman. But, I would do anything to bring my baby back into my arms. I know I shouldn't look back into the past but it is very difficult."  
She rose and walked to the door. If she stayed any longer, there was no telling how wrong everything could go. Besides, Christine obviously didn't like her or want visitors. "I pray Chrissie is found soon and that she is well. Goodbye Christine."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Erik awoke to the sound of a girl's screams. His mind was foggy, who was it? Then he remembered it was Chrissie.

He sat up and pulled his robe on. He skillfully navigated through the dark to Chrissie's corner and found her dreaming. Disturbed that her dreams were filled with fear and pain, he gently awakened her.

Startled she popped up but felt drowsiness weighing her back down upon her pillows. "What happened?"

"I heard you screaming." He quietly replied. They had no spoken since Chrissie had realized his identity.

Chrissie met his gaze for a second then cast her eyes down. "I must have been dreaming. I don't remember screaming."

He nodded. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

She didn't look at him. Every time their gazes met, pain and misery was visible. It was too much for her. Instead she watched her fingers trace the beads surrounding one of the silk pillows.

"I hope you sleep well." Erik cast one final glance, before leaving her alone.

Chrissie laid back down but sleep did not come. She simply lay motionless for hours. If it was morning she didn't know. Now all she knew of was darkness. Finally she gave up on sleep and stood. Sleep was not possible.

She lit a few candles and began rummaging through Erik's belongings. On her left side, many rugs were draped over something. Peering closer, she saw for the first time that the way the rugs had been draped looked odd. Almost as if something was hidden underneath.

Curiosity propelled her to begin pulling off the rugs to see what was underneath. The more rugs she threw off, the stranger the shape looked. With one last tug the final rug fell off revealing a piano.

Chrissie smiled as she stroked its glossy edges. Why had it been hidden away? It looked as if at one time, it had been proudly cared for. _Erik used to play the piano? How odd is that, he doesn't act like a musician. But I guess that would explain all of the music scores lying around. _

Looking at the mess of rugs on the ground, she wondered what his reaction to her finding the piano would be. It was too much to hope he would think of it as a pleasant surprise. At the very least, she hoped he wouldn't be angry. _What do you think? Of course he's going to be upset. Then he'll be cold and not look at me. That's not so bad though, I don't care whether he looks at me or not._

She could hear his movement. He was coming to see what mess she had gotten into now. Her heart pounded when he came into view and stopped short.

Trying to sound cheerful she causally asked him, "Why have you hidden away such a lovely piano? I didn't realize you played." Now she feared that she had done something very, very bad. _Cheerful conversation never suited him well anyways._ He still hadn't moved an inch and his eyes were wide with shock and disbelief.

Finally he spoke. "Why, are, you, doing, this, to me?" His words were slow and unconnected.

Confused she began to ask, "What have I done?"

"Do not speak!" He closed the distance between them and towered over, seething with anger. When Chrissie opened her mouth to speak, his hand slapped hard across her cheek. She fell to the ground, tears threatening to fall.

Erik continued his rage. "You are a selfish girl who doesn't know her place!"

"I don't know my place? Damn you Erik! I'd happily leave you and this darkness forever and never look back. It is you who force me to stay here for whatever selfish desires that you have." _How _dare _he say that!_

"You will say here and do as I say."

"I will do no such thing." _I can't believe he still thinks he can command me. Sure I did his kitchen work, but I'm not his little slave girl! _

She picked herself up off the ground and met his furious gaze. "I would have thought by now you would have learned you cannot will me to do anything."

Sitting down on the piano stool, she continued. "I am my own person with my own will. Never will I take orders from you, whether or not you are a phantom." Her fingers sounded hard on the keys and the noise echoed.

"Don't do that!" He practically screamed, breathing heavily.

Defiant as ever, Chrissie began to play loudly. The tune was low and angry, fitting the mood perfect.

"Mademoiselle, I am warning you."

"Oh so now I am mademoiselle. Call me what you want, I don't care, but know this. You will have to kill me to stop my playing. You cannot will me to stop!"

Pushed to his limits he grabbed her by the waist and with a burst of strength flung her across the room. Her body smashed into the nearby wall and she was knocked unconscious.

Erik collapsed over the piano, shaking. The tears that had been threatening him for over a decade poured out. After a few minutes he let his body go limp over his once prized instrument.

When he remembered Chrissie he pulled himself off the piano and hurried to where he had thrown her. He stared at her crumpled body in disbelief. Bending down he felt for a sign that she was still alive. He felt a faint pulse. She was still alive.

There was a black sky. And blotches of red. Tiny spots of white. Now bright yellow. Chrissie blinked several times. Gradually, the colors faded away and she could see clearly again. He was there, of course. But no longer furious, instead he looked slightly worried and very guilty. _It's a little late for that, don't you think? _

The pain was bad. It was everywhere, but mostly her head hurt. A thousand knives seared through her. Tears wet her cheeks as the sobs choked her. _No! Oh how it hurts! I don't want to appear weak now. Not after all that._

She felt him stoke her face. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Even through everything, she could hear his words in perfect clarity. "Oh." She abruptly stopped. The pain was more intense.

He shook his head. "No talking for a while."

For the strangest reason she didn't feel like fighting any more. The battle was over for now. She would let him win because for now he possessed more strength then she could ever muster up. The battle was lost, whether or not she liked it. She closed her eyes.

He nudged her. "No sleeping either."

Oh how it hurt! Sleep sounded heavenly but she couldn't now. They both knew it but it was so hard to fight the urge.

She expected him to leave her alone. But he didn't. For hours he stayed with her. She wasn't aloud to sleep, only to lay motionless in pain.

"Why are you still here?" Her weak voice quivered.

He looked her in the eye. "Do you want me to leave?"

She closed her eyes. His eyes were to powerful. "No…" Comfort sounded half nice. Familiar, like home was. _I hate him, but I don't want to be alone. Please, don't leave me alone!_

"I, uh well…" he cleared his throat. "We need to talk. I need to talk. What I did, how I acted was not right." He cupped her chin in his finger tips. "Never before have I apologized. Not to anyone Chrissie, You have begun a change in me. It is so strange and foreign."

"How Erik?" Her breathing hastened as the pain pulsed through her body. _What is this side in him? _

"I don't know. I may never understand. Before I was evil and greedy. Then after the disaster I was silent and solemn. But the reunion brought my previous state to present. I forced you here for my own selfish desires as you said. But somehow, I'm different. I wouldn't have let you go earlier and I still won't easily. You are my angel."

The pain was too great. _This is just guilt. He doesn't really mean any of this. Besides if he was different, he wouldn't have tossed me like a rag doll, almost killing me. I'm no one's angel. My parent's always hated angels. He's going to pay for this in the morning._

"It's alright Chrissie, you can sleep now." And she did. A long, lovely sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"Chrissie." The voice echoed in the distance. "Chrissie." It sounded louder and more demanding. "Chrissie wake up!" Oh, and so very impatient.

She blinked. Of course it was Erik shouting at her. When was he not shouting? His voice still echoed in her head. Trying not to think of the pain, she looked him over. He had changed his clothing and had bathed.

He was holding a tray filled with actual food, not the mush he had severed her before. In a carefully washed mug, thanks to Chrissie, was steaming tea. Also there was oatmeal and a soft roll.

Again he spoke. "You cannot sleep that long, Chrissie. It is dangerous after an injury like that."

_An injury cause by you!_ She managed the strength to roll her eyes. "Unfortunate for you, I'm not dead yet."

"Pity, and now I have to care for you." His sarcasm caused her to frown and then moan in pain. Amused, he shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Now then Chrissie, are you strong enough to eat?"

_Oh no, I'll never manage._ _Now I'm doomed to starve.  
_  
"No? Well then I'll have to feed you." It was a statement obviously not up for debate.

_Not if I have any say he won't._ "I will manage on my own, monsieur. I don't need your assistance."

"Deny it all you want, but we both know you are not strong enough right now. I don't care much for your senseless pride."

"My pride is not going anywhere. I'd rather starve then be fed by your hand. Besides, I'm sure you plan on killing me anyhow. You've almost killed me how many times now, three? Or perhaps you had other ideas of what to do with me."

"Oh heaven forbid those almost deaths be an accident."

Hey eyes widened. "They were not accidents!" Her sudden burst set waves of pain through her body.

"Why would I _want_ to kill a little thing like you?"

"I don't know. You've probably killed people before for no reason at all before! How should I know you're motives?"

He rolled his eyes. "Now you're being ridiculous. For your information, I have murdered people before, for motives unseen by others. But I have no intention of killing you."

"Killing me? Perhaps not, but I wouldn't think of myself safe from you. You obviously have no problem using your advantages against me." Her self control was diminishing rapidly.

"All I'm trying to do is feed you."

"Oh I'm sure that's very noble of you." Her voice almost cracked. "But maybe I don't want your help. Did that ever occur to you?"

"Yes, it did cross my mind."

"You insult me! I don't want your help, nor anyone else's for that matter. Chrissie de Changy is not a weakling."

His face looked distinctly paler. "Who are your parents?"

"Raoul and Christine de Changy but why should it matter?"

He turned on his heel and stormed out without a word.

Chrissie collapsed back against her pillows. The violent pain took over. What had she ever done to deserve this?

To say he was furious was an understatement. His fists punched down hard. Oh he could put up with Chrissie acting like a bitch. Anyhow, she was probably God's punishment for ending so many lives. She was a de Changy. How had he managed to miss the family resemblance? She was a splitting image of her father. Probably on closer glance she was a mini Christine. She was Christine's daughter! That was unacceptable. The worst of it was she didn't even know who he was. Not a clue as to what he had done. No doubt they were _family secrets_ that she was not privy too.

In some part of his mind he knew it wasn't fair to blame her. She hadn't known. Still she had no idea. "This is so out of hand!" He screamed at the wall, kicking a candle holder over. It shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces. Maybe it was better this way. Logic knew she had a right to know. Telling her was a different matter.

Another unsettling thought; they might suspect that he had something to do with her disappearance. One way or another he was always blamed if anything went wrong in the damned opera house. Of course finding the lair would not be so easy. Back when the construction workers had restored parts of the house, remodeling the entranceway had been easy. With the help of extra supplies, more traps than anyone would ever think to watch out for had been set. It would take a brilliant mind to bypass them.

However, if it was suspected that he had returned, it was possible Christine would be able to find the hidden tunnels. She knew too much about his mind and the way he planned. God be damned her daughter was just like her!


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The days after Chrissie's accident passed by slowly and proved uneventful. Above the hidden cavern Raoul and Christine worried constantly over Chrissie's fate. All of the evidence leading to her disappearance suggested little. Rumors had arisen claiming the phantom had returned and resumed his evil deeds. It was said the de Changy child was the obvious target. While the rumors were dismissed Raoul and Christine couldn't help but wonder what if?

* * *

Meanwhile Chrissie began her slow recovery. Her first strength rebuilding exercise involved simply standing on her shaky legs. She began standing for only a few seconds and gradually built her way up to standing for a few minutes. Her progress was slow and discouraging at times but she ignored the pain and allowed thoughts of freedom to be her motivation.

Erik kept his distance from Chrissie. He saw to her needs silently, treating her no better than a sick animal. In response she ignored him as well. Each day the tension rose higher until finally Chrissie's patience snapped. Her injuries prevented mobility but her lungs were clear. Sucking in a gulp of stale air, she began screaming as loud as she could manage.

Erik was by her side instantly and clamped his hand over her mouth. She bit down on his fingers, howling like an enraged animal. With his free hand he pushed her back down onto her bed by her shoulders. She twisted against him and continued to struggle. He used his weight against her, trapping her body tight against him and the bed.

After a moment Chrissie gave up her futile fight and fell back against the blankets breathing heavily. When Erik was convinced she had resigned her fight he pushed himself off her and removed his hand from her mouth. Her teeth had left marks across his hand.

They said nothing but stared at the other with disgust and hate brimming in their eyes. After what seemed like forever Erik regained his wits and walked away. Chrissie watched him go out of the corner of her eye, hating him with her whole self. Defeat loomed in the air above her and a fresh wave of sadness washed over her. _I have to stay determined. I can't lose hope now. I must regain my strength. I will prevail against him if it kills me._ It might kill her. So far he had no weaknesses. There was no way she could beat him. His hearing was excellent so escape was not possible. Besides the only way of escape she had discovered would involve either a boat or having to swim.

But maybe strength was not the greatest weapon. He had some pretty fierce secrets hidden. It was only a matter of learning the truth. He knew more about her than he was letting on. Why had he reacted badly when he had learned her true name? It had been a mistake revealing it. Her only protection had been uncovered. Now she felt as if only a pawn in his grasp.

Hadn't it only been a short time ago that she had lived happily? No, it had been much longer than that. Memories of a picnic with her parents brought tears to her eyes. It had been so wonderful…

The morning started out slowly. Chrissie was the first to awake and could barely contain her excitement. She rushed through her morning routine at record speed, insisting upon wearing her sky blue, plaid play dress and baby pink floppy sun bonnet.

Agnes, her nursemaid, laughed but went along with Chrissie's plans without a fuss. There was no stopping Chrissie once she had her heart set on doing something.

Chrissie happily bounced downstairs, light blond curls twisting and twirling behind checkered ribbon. The maids all smiled as she raced by, remembering for a time the innocence of childhood.

Since neither Mama nor Papa where in sight, she slipped into the kitchen to say good morning to chef Georges. At the sound of the wooden door slamming behind, he looked up into the sparkling blue eyes of the prettiest child he had ever laid eyes on.

"Bonjour Chrissie. I mean, _mademoiselle_." He bowed before her, winking. Reaching behind him, he handed her a small package. "Happy birthday Chrissie."

She clapped her hands. "Oh you remembered!" She squealed.

He chuckled. "But how could I not? You have reminded me every day for the last two months. Go on and open your gift."

Eagerly she tore at the paper. Inside laid seven colorful ribbons. She hugged his leg tightly. "Thank you so much Georges. They are very pretty."

"Oh it's not much but I thought since you're seven years old today, you should have seven hair ribbons. After all, you are a lady now."

She grimaced. "I don't want to be a lady. I want to be a chef like you."

Georges smiled. "Well I wouldn't worry about it too much. You can be a lady and a chef if you really want to."

"Yes I want to." She saw Agnes hurry into the kitchen.

"Chrissie, your mama and papa will be downstairs to see you any moment. Run along into the parlor for they will surely be expecting you. I'll take your ribbons, now go!"

"Alright, bye Georges." Giggling she handed her ribbons to Agnes and raced to the parlor. Her parents greeted her with smiles and hugs.

"Happy birthday Little Chrissie." Christine straightened her lopsided bonnet. "What do want to do to celebrate?"

She had been waiting for a long time to tell Mama that she wanted to go on a picnic. Everyone else in the house knew what she wanted except Mama and Papa. It had been a surprise. Georges had even promised to have dinner packed and ready to go.

"I want to go on a picnic." Chrissie squealed.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Raoul asked.

"Yes, yes, yes!" She jumped up and down. "I want to go on a picnic."

Christine laughed. "Alright then Little Chrissie, after breakfast we can ride out to the countryside and have a picnic."

A few hours later Chrissie picked wild flowers to give to Mama. The sun was warm on the grass and reflected on the pond. A few feet away, Christine and Raoul sat watching Chrissie carefully and chatting amiably.

When she had filled her apron she hurried back to mama. Christine smiled at her daughter. "Merci Little Chrissie, the flowers are very pretty."

"Do I get anything?" Raoul teased.

Chrissie studied him for a moment before deciding to take some of the flowers out of Mama's lap and give them to Papa. He grinned widely and selected a small pink flower to stick in her hair.

She had been sure she had never been happier. July fifteenth was the best day of the year. Laying on one of the soft blankets, she drifted off to sleep listening to the soothing sound of her parents voices.

Chrissie found it odd that her seventh had been her favorite birthday. When she was older her mother had thrown her grand parties with important people and close friends but still she had felt happier chatting with Georges in the kitchen and spending the afternoon in the countryside with her parents. Grand splendor had never appealed much to her. Probably it never would. That is, if she ever escaped this awful predicament and lived to see day light once again.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Raoul's back had begun to ache badly. How long had he been standing here; only a scant half hour? No, it must have been longer. It seemed the officer would never stop talking. If the news had been good, he would have been more than willing to listen, but so far it had only been dire.

"Please monsieur, let me empathize what is important." He interrupted causing the officer to frown. However displeased, he allowed Raoul to continue.

"What is really important is bringing Chrissie home."

"Yes monsieur that is what we are working on"

"_Before_ something happens to her."

"In deed something has _already_ happened to her. As I've told you hundreds of times now, we are doing are best to find her. But with each passing day, the chances of locating the mademoiselle grow slimmer. I assure you, we have investigated all possible options."

"No! No. No. You haven't. It's on all of our minds, yet we are in denial. However at this point it is very possible that the phantom may have returned and be responsible"

"Monsieur! You are hardly suggesting that we chase after ghosts?"

"No. I'm not merely _suggesting_, I'm _instructing_ you on our next course of action."

"There isn't any proof or evidence."

"I want to talk with your superior. Get him to me now!"

"Fine then, if that's what you want. Good day monsieur." The officer scurried away.

No sooner had the door slammed shut, did a smaller set a footsteps approach. She touched his arm, startling him.

"What did the officer have to say?" She asked timidly, preparing for the worst.

"You mean, what _didn't_ he say. Oh he's well trained, feeding us worthless information. I don't think I've ever been so restless in my entire life."

"Not even when we thought Chrissie would die as a baby?"

Raoul looked into her eyes. She was the love of his life. She had stood by him in all his times of need. In return he had provided for her and protected her. They had been married near sixteen years now. And still, she had no idea of the secrets. If she ever found out, their whole lives could be torn apart.

He looked away. "When Chrissie was born, it was very difficult for me. I, I had a lot too do. Arrangements needed to be made." He managed a weak smile. "I'm only glad it all worked out for us."

She wept softly. "Is this the phantom's doing? After so many years, has he returned?"

"It's a possibility. But if it is the phantom's doing, Chrissie is still alive and well. I'm sure our headstrong girl can find a way to charm the phantom."

"That's what I fear most Raoul."

High above, Erik watched them. At the mention of Chrissie _charming him_, a smirk spread across his thin lips. So many other words described what had happened better. If only they could see her now. The situation was not good. It was only a matter of time before one of his many tunnels was discovered. He had to act fast. But what could he do? Why had he kidnapped her in the first place?

Remembering the loneliness and despair caused a panic to rise in his chest. No, letting go of Chrissie was not an option. Even if he could bear to be alone again, she would surely inform the authorities of his presence, and a warrant for his arrest would be drawn up. His poor pathetic life would be in danger, once again.

His instincts told him to run, but curiosity held him back. What exactly was Raoul hiding from Christine and Chrissie? A lump rose in his throat. _Christine. _

He shook his head to clear his thought of her. It was important that he focus. The memory of her beautiful voice as well as her beauty would do him no good. It was her daughter that he needed to focus on.

Obviously, they could not stay at the Opera Populaire without being discovered. Unless he moved her they were in danger of being discovered. Most of the opera house still lay in ruins from the disaster he had caused over a decade ago. But even if he did find a location, Chrissie was too weak too be moved. And even then, she was bent on escape. If he so much as let his guard down for a single second, her loud voice could alert others. If that were to happen, neither of them would be able to flee the Opera House without being caught. Besides, as much as he would like to forget he was aging. Time was cruel and the years were starting to catch up with him. He was not as quick as he used to be.

The clock was ticking and he was running out of options. The only possible solution he could think of was to discover the secrets that were tearing the de Changy family apart, and somehow use it against them. Someone was going to be hurt.

* * *

Erik burst into his lair, waking Chrissie from her sleep.

"What the hell Erik?" She sleepily mumbled, sitting up. The sudden movement caused pain to crush her ribs. She moaned loudly.

"I think its time we had a little chat." He stood directly above her, his arms crossed over his chest.

"What did I do this time?" She leaned back against her pillows and closed her eyes.

"To start off with, what do you know about me?"

"You're a crazy man who scares people and lives underground. That's all I know." She was still mumbling and straining against the pain.

He shook his head. "Never mind that then. Tell me about you."

"What do you want to know about me?"

"It doesn't matter, just start with something basic and no lying."

"My name is Fealty de Changy. My nickname is Little Chrissie because I was so little when I was born but I just go by Chrissie."

"Fealty means faithful. Why were you named Fealty?"

"I don't know. My father wanted me to be named Fealty but my mother wanted me to be named Madeleine."

Erik's eyes lit up. There was something in that. "Why were you so little at birth?"

"I was born too early. It was May but I wasn't supposed to be born until September."

"You're lying." He crossed his arms across his chest.

"No I'm not! My birthday is May fifteenth."

"I may not be a doctor, but I do know that it is not possible for a baby to live after being born four months too early.

"The doctor said I was a miracle baby." She defended herself.

"I can believe in miracles, but to say you were born four months early and lived is fiction."

Chrissie sat up. "So what are you saying Erik? That both my parents and my doctor lied to me about how old I was when I was born? Why would they want to lie? What purpose would it serve?"

"To save your father's name perhaps."

She frowned. "Are you saying that I was conceived out of wedlock?"

"That's the only explanation I can think of."

"Well it's a ridiculous lie." She lay back down and closed her eyes. "Go away."

"Our conversation is not over yet." She did not respond. He let out an exasperated sigh and threw his hands up in the air. "I don't know what to do with you."

"How about giving me back to civilization? Just because you hide with a mask on in the dark doesn't mean I do. For your information, I _like_ attending parties and social events. True they do get tiresome after a while, but I assure you after this little adventure, a dull life sounds heavenly to me."

"I do not _hide_ in the dark. I chose to _live_ in the dark because that is what I wish."

"If that is so, then why do you wear a mask? You just said yourself, you've nothing to hide. Prove your point, and toss it aside."

He stiffened. "You do not know of what you speak."

She inched forward. "Oh but I do. You pretend to be all fearless and strong but you're not really. Behind the front you put on you are a timid little mouse. Prove that you're brave and take it off."

"I'm warning you…"

"Oh you'll pick me up and throw me across the room again? No Erik, you have to kill me this time. Do you plan to strangle or drown me? Perhaps you have a knife to stab me with?"

He was tempted to take off his mask. Only pride stood between the two of them. It always came down to pride. What a terrible price to pay for its sake. In the end, suffering and sorrow was all that was left.

"No."

"Then I guess we have nothing more to say to each other."

"Perhaps you're right."

"Then why are you still here?"

"You mademoiselle try me patience. It's a wonder your parents haven't thrown you out of their home!" He stormed out as usual. If Chrissie had her way, he'd be dead before the week was out. If her parents has there way he'd be dead sooner.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Julian Fremin sat impatiently as usual, twisting a crumpled piece of paper in his hands. Even though the long journey from Nice to Paris was almost finished, the distance seemed much farther. It was unconceivable that they were only hours away from Paris.

Sitting only a foot away, Madame Fremin was a complete contradiction to her son; she was patiently glancing out the carriage window, and had her hands lightly folded in her lap. Her manner was calm and collected, as usual.

"I wouldn't worry about Little Chrissie. She'll be just fine. In fact, I'm sure by the time we arrive she will have been located and be safe and well." She glanced over at Julian. "Are you listening to me, Jules?"

He sighed. "I pray you are right but I can't help but worry. If anything happens to her…" He nearly chocked. To distract himself from the ride, he unfolded the crinkled letter and reread it.

_I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news but considering the nature of your relationship with my daughter, I felt obliged to inform you of recent events.  
Only a short time ago we had arrived in Paris to stay and visit the Opera Populaire. A reunion is being held for all who once participated in the production of operas before its closing, almost sixteen years ago. However after only a matter of days Chrissie simply vanished leaving nary a trace. I have been working close with the authorities but news has been uneventful.  
I pray by the time this letter reaches you, Chrissie will be located and brought back to us, but it seems we are waiting for a miracle or a clue that might lead us to her. At this time the situation is dire to say the least. We all fear for Chrissie's safety and well being. _

May God bless you  
Raoul de Changy  


After receiving the letter Julian had been adamant about traveling to Paris to assist in finding Chrissie. His father, Monsieur Fremin, had been against the idea from the start, saying that the journey was too far, and Julian would just be in the way. However Madame Fremin had been craving to make a few purchases from Paris for some time and found this to be the perfect opportunity. She immediately volunteered to travel with Julian.

The trip had given Julian time to think back on his impulse decision, how could he really help? Of course his father was right, he would just be in the way, but he needed to be there.

When he had first met Chrissie, she had been twelve and he thirteen. Her family had been visiting Nice and it had been a chance encounter. Even at such a young age, he had known from the moment he laid eyes on her, that she was the love of his life. She had been the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her golden hair sparkled in the sunlight, and her blue eyes were the color of sapphires. In his mind, he saw her being his future bride. Of course, Chrissie had other ideas.

She was as stubborn as beautiful he soon learned. She knew what she wanted and what she didn't. It wasn't that she was spoiled, but that she wanted to be in control. Chrissie was not by any means weak and submissive but instead strong and dominating.

Julian learned first hand that she did not reciprocate romantic feelings for him three days later. They had been walking alone along the beach when he had pulled her up close and attempted to kiss her. Chrissie pulled back and ran away from him, shouting vile words at him. For the next two weeks, she refused to talk to him.

Four months later his family had traveled to Strasbourg and spent time with the de Changys. Chrissie tolerated him for the first half of their stay, and was friendly the second half. The night before their departure, Julian tried to kiss her again. In short, she bit him.

They did not see each other again for another two years. At their next encounter, Julian was fifteen and Chrissie fourteen. By that time, Chrissie had matured both physically and emotionally. They met again at a celebration in Lyon. The house had been by far grander than any other he had seen, but his memories centered on her. Her opinion of him had changed and she couldn't help but grin a little wider at the sight of him.

The week's events consisted of long chats, a few arguments and even a little dancing. Their arguments centered on her feelings of superiority and self appointed pedestal and he being overbearing and overprotective.

Before they parted, Chrissie allowed Julian to hug her and kiss her cheek and they spoke fondly of writing letters. For half a year they wrote letters back in forth. Julian had not received a letter from her in nine months.

In one letter Chrissie had mentioned her mother wanting her to be enrolled in a girl's academy of art located in Nice. The academy had accepted her, but her father did not wish Chrissie to be so far from home.

For many months he had longed to receive a letter from her, but he had not been willing to write a letter to her. On many occasions he wondered what he would say to her. Never did he figure out what he actually would say. Now she was in trouble. It was unnerving to hear nothing from her and then to find out that he may never see her again. It was his greatest fear.

* * *

She slowly counted to one hundred. Her legs supported her steadily. Careful to stay balanced, she took a step foreword. She steadied herself again and took another step. A few more steps and she was half way across the room. It was progress but only infuriated her. She should be able to get up out and run a mile, not take a few shaky steps across the room.

In the next room Erik spoke with Millie again to arrange more supplies. Chrissie sensed he was worried about being discovered and started taking even more precautions.

Her legs began to wobble and she flung her arms out to steady herself. She collapsed in a heap of limbs on the ground. Quickly she sorted out her legs and stood, pain pulsing through her veins.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Erik watching her. He made no move to help her, and she did not ask for help. She whispered encouraging words to keep her from giving up. Slowly she reached the bed again and wiped away silent tears.

Once she was off her feet, Erik entered the room and holding a gift. "I brought you a new dress." He explained, unfolding the fabric. "You've been wearing your other dress for a week now. I thought you might like fresh clothes."

She silently studied the dress. It was very similar to other one he had given her but it was dark blue instead of brown. He held in her reach. She touched it. It was soft and reminded of a dress her mother had once had.

It had been so soft and pretty. Mama hadn't been happy when she'd seen her with it.

"_No Little Chrissie, you mustn't ever touch this dress. Do you understand? I shouldn't even still have this dress but I can't just get rid of it." _

When she did not respond he frowned. She shook her head and accepted the dress. To avoid further conversation he made a fast exit. Sympathy and empathy was not something he understood. Chrissie studied the dress again, but whatever triggered the odd memory was gone.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Erik ran quietly through the tunnels behind the west wall. He stopped at a ladder, and climbed up into a crawlspace located between the ceiling and roof. The space was tiny and dirty, most likely it hadn't been used since the opera house had been built. Listening carefully for any sounds, he unhooked a latch and slipped down into the room, using a vanity desk as a step stool.

He was in one of the old ballet dormitories. It had been used mostly for the second-rate girls, those who were too young, too old, or too fat to be chosen to dance on stage. Presently it was being used to house guests of the reunion who had not been involved and did not have the money or social status to demand anything more. 

Silently, he sorted through the eight women's belongings. He smiled when he found a diary belonging to Catherine Revel. It what just he needed. He took a minute to flip through the pages, finding it was all that he hoped it would be: the answer to Chrissie's mystery.

Having spent the last few days, spying and listening to conversations, he had learned a great deal on the de Changys's recent activities. However Catherine Revel puzzled him. She had not been a dancer or singer or any type of performer. Yet she was somehow linked to Raoul's past.

Chrissie's birth date was another puzzle. She was adamant about it being in May and truly believed it to be so. She was too young and undereducated too understand how that could not be possible.

The most haunting question lingered in the air. If Christine had been engaged in frivolous behavior before she married Raoul, was he her father?

He had spent the past few nights pondering all the details. A magical answer had not presented itself frustrated Erik to all ends. The answer to all his and Chrissie's questions lay beneath the leather folds of Catherine's diary. He only had to read.

The soft scuffling of feet alerted Erik. Carefully he silently climbed on top of the vanity desk. Without upsetting anything he pulled himself up through the opening in the ceiling and latched the trapdoor closed. The old wood squeaked ever so softly as it closed.

Below, Catherine entered the room. "Hello, is there anyone here?" She scanned the small room but there was no sign of another presence.

Slowly she walked over to her bed and sat down. She gently traced her belonging, sprawled across the bed with one hand, and folded her other into a fist in her lap. Raoul was still refusing to see her. 

Her frustrations seemed to never end. He was a stubborn prideful man and refused to be seen with her. She had even resorted to sending notes but they had been returned, unopened.

Catherine turned around and looked into the chamber's only mirror. Her reflection stared back at her. There were no smiles, just emptiness and pain.

A part of her knew that in truth she was at fault as well. If she behaved more appropriately, she'd have saved herself a great deal of pain. If she hadn't made the mistake of allowing him into her life, she wouldn't be such a sad, pathetic woman.

How different everyone's lives would have been. Instead of working as a servant, she could have married and raised children. Or perhaps she could have pursued her dream of becoming a dancer. She certainly had the skills. A few years of formal training was all she had needed to have the chance of dancing professionally. 

Fate was cruel. Her dreams had been shattered, and just when she had finally seen through the darkness to the light he had come back. He left a short time later, carrying away a part of her heart that never healed. Tears had come and gone but the hole in her soul forever stayed. Could he be so heartless a man? Did he not understand the pain he had caused or simply did he not care? How much trouble would it be to spare twenty minutes to talk with her?

Erik stared at Chrissie. She stood at the foot of her bed brushing her long hair. Beautiful locks of blond hair twirled down her back. The shadows fought the wave of color, creating a breathtaking contrast between the two. If Chrissie noticed Erik staring at her, she ignored him. Her focus was fully concentrated on remaining steady on her weak legs and brushing the tangles and knots out of her hair.

For the longest time, neither uttered a word. He simply stared and she concentrated fully on her task at hand. In the end, it was Chrissie who surrendered.

"Alright I give up." She spoke quietly without faltering the long brush strokes. "What do you want now?" She did not turn and look at him nor did she look up. She continued to rhythmically brush her hair.

Erik was silent for a moment. He thought carefully of his next words. What exactly did he want of her? The purpose of her presence had been fulfilled, what now did he want? He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. It did not matter what he wanted. His only concern was finding a new location to keep himself safe. They could not be discovered.

Only hours earlier he had seen a newcomer arrive in hopes of finding Chrissie. It would only be a short time before they would be discovered. It was believe by most that he was involved. Indeed, they were correct.

Images of Chrissie flashed through his mind. The first time he had laid eyes on her she had been sitting lonely among a large group of people. She had stayed in her chambers for a while afterwards. Then he found her lost, running away from the crazy stagehand. Short images of her half drowned, enraged, embarrassed, frightened and delighted flashed before his eyes. Their time together had been short. He was not ready to let her go. In many ways she was like Christine. She could not justify Christine leaving but she could quench a longing in him. Even if she hated him if she stayed he wouldn't have to ever be alone. He would never have to be alone again.

"What do you want?" She repeated. When he did not respond she groaned loudly. "Leave me. Leave me!" She screeched at him. Tears welled in her eyes.

Tossing her brush aside she walked to the other side of the room and starred in the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her. Even as a child Chrissie had always enjoyed looking at her reflection. Vanity had always been one of her weak points. Her self appointed task was to look perfect. The maids would spend hours brushing and styling her hair until she was satisfied. Face creams, expensive dresses, hair ribbons, and slippers had always been available. If she needed or wanted something Raoul would order it for her.

Now black circles spoiled her blue eyes. Strands of hair stuck out of the side of her head even after she brushed them into place. Her dirty dress hung loosely on her tiny frame. It bulged at her shoulders and sagged in the waist.

Her gaze dropped to her feet. Her mother would have been horrified to see her without slippers. Her dirty feet stood bare on the cold hard ground.

She backed away from the mirror. Turning to the left the lake splashed only feet away. Its forbidden waters seemed to laugh in her face. A sad laugh escaped her mouth. How pathetic she was.

Foot steps sounded behind her. It was him. There was no one else.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

When Julian had been a boy he had always struggled to get along peacefully with the other boys. The smallest annoyance would irritate him beyond consol. It was not uncommon for him to return home after a day of playing with scars and cuts. His mother would shake her head scold him but it made no difference. He didn't try to cause trouble but somehow he always did. It was almost as if trouble came looking for him.

As he grew older his father kept him away from the other boys and began to teach him how to be a man. At first it wasn't clear what trade he would learn. He still had problems getting along with others, sitting still for long periods of time and he absolutely despised school work. He resisted learning languages, writing, mathematics and sciences. However he did enjoy reading novels. Often times he would sneak out of bed late at night and steal away into the library. Curling up on the sofa with a mystery novel he was content until the early hours of morning when the first rays of sunlight would peek through the windows. It was easy for him to get lost in the mystery of solving crimes and to forget his regular studies and what was expected of him. By his sixteenth birthday he knew that he wanted to be a detective. Harshly, his father dismissed his dream and insisted that there were many other profitable trades that he should become involved with. But secretly, Julian still dreamed at night of solving dark crimes.

When he had received the notice of Chrissie's disappearance he had had to solve it. The fact that no one in Paris could seem to trace her did not bother him at all. He was confident in his abilities. All those late nights in the library had proved that much.

But now as he stood in the middle of the Opera Populaire his confidence vanished. For the first time he realized what was truly at stake. This was different then a good story; this was real and Chrissie, if she was still alive, was in grave danger. Still, Julian couldn't quite imagine that Chrissie, so stubborn and spunky, could be dead. He _could_ imagine her bossing her captor around. True she was weaker than most girls her age but never had she seemed weak at heart.

Eventually it dawned on him that standing around wasn't going to solve anything. What should he do? The police had already searched the restored part of the Opera Populaire but knowing Chrissie if she had wandered off the most likely place for her to be was where she shouldn't be. The restricted areas were being guarded as to keep nosy people out, but long time maids would know how to get past the guards. Glancing around the room he began to plot. The maids and stage hands had all been interviewed but it was probable that they wouldn't tell the whole truth to a police officer. But if he could get close enough to the maids they would be more likely to mention something else.

He slipped away, unnoticed down the hallway towards the servant corridors. Grateful that he was wearing his work clothes, he crossed his fingers that he wouldn't look too threatening. Behind him a short man came up caring a large pot filled with supplies.

"Uh, excuse me monsieur, may I help you in any way?" Julian stopped the man.

The man stopped and eyed Julian. "I'm sorry but I'm not any monsieur but if you're looking for one there's plenty out there." He pointed back towards to entryway. "Now if you'll excuse me." He started to walk away.

"I'm looking for temporary work. I was wondering if you might have something for me to do." Julian called out.

Once again the man stopped. "You'll have to talk to the boss as he does all the hiring. I don't think we need anyone. Already have too many people poking around here."

"Well may I at least stay here until I can find further arrangements? I would be happy to work for free in exchange. Perhaps you have an opening in the kitchen?" Julian wasn't about to give up.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, alright, come with me to the kitchen. I'll introduce you to the girls but if they don't want you, you're on your own."

The man led Julian into the kitchen. The girls chatted amiably as they scrubbed dishes but they eyed him wearily. Quickly they set him to fetch many items but eventually they found him the job of peeling potatoes.

Careful not to say a word, he listened to the conversations. There was plenty of gossip but at first it had nothing to do with Chrissie. Finally the conversations took a turn and the opera ghost was mentioned.

"Excuse me," he interrupted, "I hope you don't mind me asking but who's the opera ghost? I keep hearing about him. Is he a local legend or something?" Julian tried to sound innocent.

The girls eyed other. "You don't know who the phantom of the opera is?" One of the girls finally asked.

"No I don't. I'm not from Paris."

"Oh. Well sixteen years ago, when the Opera Populaire was burned down, there were rumors of a phantom."

Another maid walked closer. "You see," She began, "Before the fire, things at the opera house were strange. People disappeared and it was said that the phantom was the responsible."

"That's odd…"Julian murmured, recalling the tale. It had been a story wildly told across all of France.

"Yes and we think he's back and…" She stopped short not wanting to say too much. This was what he had been waiting for.

"You think he's back? Is that even possible?" Julian prompted.

Her voice fell. "One of the girls who came with her parents to the reunion has gone missing. The police don't know where she is. We have reason to believe the phantom has taken her."

"Well that's fascinating." He went back to peeling potatoes. "What does this phantom look like? Does he haunt the opera house at night like a ghost?"

A red haired girl responded this time. "Some say he's very ugly. Others believe him to be devilishly handsome. He lives beneath our feet but you cannot get down there. He has set many traps to keep outsiders out. Many have tried to find the passages but only the most brilliant investigators can find it."

"It's a good thing all the investigators are complete idiots!" An older maid interjected.

"But Monsieur Bonnet is very handsome." Another one added.

The gossip shifted once again. It was much later that he finally asked how they knew the phantom had returned. A younger maid whispered to him on her way out that an old stagehand had seen Chrissie disappear. He had claimed the phantom had taken her. However the police had disregarded him because he was said to be mad.

"Do you think he's telling the truth?" Julian grabbed her arm.

She shrugged her shoulders as he released her. "Why would he lie? Ask him yourself but don't tell him I told you. His name is Monsieur Roux. Just ask for the crazy man with a long beard."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The days had crept by slower than a snail. At least it had seemed that way to Christine. Around her sorrowful friends expressed there condolences but it was as if she didn't even hear them. The loss of a child was not like losing a shoe; it was like not being able to breathe. It was the second time she'd feared for her daughter's life. The panic she had felt lying in the hospital bed when after the doctor delivered the baby, she did not cry. The color of her skin was not a normal color; in fact it was almost blue. It had been agony when the birthing pains had come too soon and Raoul had rushed her to the doctor at the midwife's insistence. The doctors had taken the baby away and for what had seemed like hours she had been left alone to grieve. Raoul had raced off with the doctors but eventually he had returned with the news: they had a small daughter but she had survived thus far. They had cried together knowing what they had almost lost. But now with Chrissie gone again they had cried apart.

Sitting still as a rock on the sofa in the living quarters she listened to her husband fumble about in the next room.

"Raoul," She whimpered just loud enough for him to hear.

He poked his head in through the doorway. Sensing her thoughts he crossed the boundaries of the room and joined her on the sofa. Instinctively she fell into his arms and he pulled her close. Locked into the embrace she let the day's first tears slip down her cheek.

"Oh Christine," His voice was soft and harmonic. "I just don't know what to do anymore." His voice broke as the dam of emotions he had been hiding began to surface. Unaware of the passage of time they held on to each other. They had lost Chrissie but at the very least they still had each other. It wasn't good enough but it was just enough to survive.

The mood of the Opera Populaire was shared by the grey, stormy skies. As the guests began to pack for their imminent departure the children gathered once again. The usual cheerful chatter was replaced by solemn words exchanged with one another. They had accepted that Chrissie wasn't coming back, ever. The situation seemed beyond reprieve. What were they to do? It was no longer a matter of fun and games. It didn't matter anymore if there truly was a phantom because either way she was gone.

Even the younger children who did not fully realize what had happened were aware that it was no longer proper to laugh and play.

"Well so much for a reunion." Remarked Laurent. "Stubborn girl had to go and get herself kidnapped. If she was looking for attention there are much better ways of getting it!"

Christophe nudged him. "It's not like she wanted to be kidnapped. She's just unlucky I guess."

"She seemed nice when I talked to her." Lynette added. "Just a little distracted. But then again, I tend to have the effect on people. "She blushed slightly.

"Perhaps she killed herself to prevent having to ever listen to you anymore." Laurent's tone was dry.

"I should think not!" Lynette stood, insulted.

"Well I guess we'll never know."

"I guess not."

After a short time the children retired to their suites. They were almost glad the reunion was nearing its end. While the festivities had continued in spite of the de Changy's personal tragedy the mood had significantly changed.  
With everyone's spirits down, the number of police searching for Chrissie was significantly reduced. This made Julian's job of trying to find the crazy stage hand easier. It took several hours to locate him but Julian was grateful it hadn't taken longer. To his frustration, communication with the man was even more challenging than locating him. Finally he was able to convince the man he wasn't a police officer, really believed him, and wasn't selling fish.

"A little woman? I sawd a little woman. She run away from me." He grinned, proud that he had remembered.

"Do you remember where she went?" Julian pressed, getting excited.

"No. Oh wait! Uhhh, no actually I don't." He shrugged his shoulders. "She ran too fast for me."

Julian's spirits fell. "Can you remember anything else? Anything at all?"

He scratched his head. "I thinks she fainted."

"She fainted?" _Why would she faint, from too much running? She's not that weak._ "Are you sure?"

"Yeah I thinks so. Oh yeah I remember now. The phantom took 'er. He jumped out an' scared her bad."

Grabbing his hand he began to pull him. "You have to show me where!"

"Oh awl right. It's this way."

As they traveled down the hallways Julian noted they all looked the same. Slowly as they took turns and slipped through areas the police hadn't thought to guard, he was able to distinguish the restored halls from the older ones. Finally they stopped in front of a wall that looked just the same as any other wall.

"Here we are. I don't know how to get in but here's were the phantom comes out and 'n. Probably plenty of traps in there too."

"Thank you sir!" He pulled out a franc. "Take this in return for your efforts."

Happily the man ran off with his treasure.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The stiff unforgiving air of the underground cavern seemed to choke Chrissie. Behind her Erik had grown very still. There was an uneasy feeling that drifted in the empty space. For someone who planned out every minor detail, surprise was unfamiliar. To be startled was strange. The act of improvisation was unheard of. Only a fool would think on their feet. Every last movement was planned to perfect precision like a polished surgeon operating to save a life or a trapeze artist balanced precariously on a tight rope. The game was deadly and nothing could be out of place. Surprise was lethal; a simple mistake, one single distracted second could be the difference between life and death. The conclusion required the most planning of all. The beginning in comparison was like baby steps. Now was not the time for hesitation. The contradiction of what should be done and what had to be done blocked the road to success. Either way the price was high. Inevitably the uncalculated act of desperation that originally caused the trouble he was facing would end in as much sorrowful agony as it had caused, perhaps even more. Still the decision had to be made regardless of the hesitation. It was the best thing for both of them.

She knew something was about to happen. This vacation from reality was about to end. Her pulse began to race as she mentally ran through the options over and over again. There had to be more. Something had happened in this short time. She wasn't sure how to name it. It was different then it should have been. The fiery anger she had felt just moments ago was starting to quell. Somehow anger didn't seem right.

Slowly she filled her lungs with air. With a rush she expelled the air allowing the movement to completely absorb her senses. Slowly she faced him. She knew that anger was the appropriate emotion. Why did she feel so strange staring at him? It was pity. She gasped out loud as the realization washed over her. This creature of torment did not deserve pity. He deserved worse than anger. A punishment of death seemed appropriate.

He returned her stare. He met her gaze but it was obvious he was not thinking about her. Someone else occupied his mind. Someone Chrissie could never compete with. Not that she would ever want too.

"What are you going to do?" She finally worked up the nerve to ask. Change was immediate, she could feel it.

He was quiet for a moment. Chrissie began to wonder if he had heard the question. A fresh spark of anger flirted across her features, diminishing any thoughts of pity.

"We can't stay here." He said simply.

She rolled her eyes. "I _know_ that. Everyone up there is obsessed with the opera ghost stories. This is the first place I would have thought they'd look. I'm surprised they haven't found us yet."

The far away looked vanished and he crossed his arms across his broad chest. "Yes that's true and now that your sweetheart is here it complicates things."

Her jaw dropped. "Sweetheart?" She nearly squeaked. "What are you talking about? I knew you were crazy but I didn't realize you were that crazy."

He ignored her and began to search the room. Even in the darkness he easily located some large black material. As a candle flickered she saw that it was a bag. Instinctively she took a step back.

"Now," he began, his voice a low growl, "you could make this very easy or difficult. Either way it does not change the outcome."

She held her breath trying not to panic. Carefully she took another step backwards. He did not move. Watching his face for any sign of movement she tried to scan the room. There had to be some escape. He deserved to die but she hadn't done anything wrong yet. Images of a funeral flashed in her mind. The flowers around the coffin were pretty but the music portrayed the tone of the event…Her heart began to pulse faster. She exhaled carefully stepping backwards again. The sound of the lake nearby was irritating. Not learning to swim as a child had been a really stupid idea, she decided. He still hadn't moved. There was no escape. He knew it and so did she.

His eyes beckoned toward her. If she hadn't been so frightened she would have smirked. She found his expectation of her funny. She'd never walk into a trap even if she had no escape. She would try anyway.

The silence was eerie. She almost wished he would say something. The only sounds she could hear were the flickering candles, her heart beating rapidly and the gentle waves lapping against the ground. The water was the loudest sound. The peaceful rhythm fascinated her. Naturally she eyes drifted towards the source of the sound.

The lake sloshed back and forth confusing her. Water needed a reason to move. _Why does that water move?_ She allowed that there was some filtration system. Some water came while some water went out. It was a plausible thought.

Erik still hadn't moved. He quietly awaited a reaction from Chrissie. He anticipated the moment she would bolt. She couldn't stop staring at the water. Tentatively he took a step forward. Adrenaline pumped through his body. The feeling was foreign to him. He had long forgotten the chase. It was as if he had woken up from the drunken stupor he had been in for so long.

Chrissie felt her heart lurch. Defeat loomed over her as she realized he known longer looked pathetic or harmless. He truly looked like a nightmare…like a phantom. It was the final straw for Chrissie. Without a second thought she turned and ran. She gasped as she ran faster than she ever had in her entire life. She felt a brief moment of exhilaration until she ran directly into him. Before she could even comprehend how he had managed to jump in front of her she was on the ground. The bag was over her head before she could cry and she was hoisted up into the air surrounded by darkness before she could shift her weight. Wildly she began to kick her legs and scream. She could barely breathe in the tiny space and promptly reached hysteria. There was a flash of hope when he opened the bag but her hope quickly diminished when he tied some material across her mouth. She was no match for his newfound strength. Tears formed in her eyes despite her determination to not cry. Her ultimate fears were realized. He was going to kill her.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Julian stared at the dark wall looking for a sign. The wall did not look promising. It did not resemble a door or a passageway. There was nothing out of place. An innocent person would never suspect

that there could be more. It was the perfect candidate for a hidden entryway. The trick was to find it.

Trembling hands felt the cold wood but he could not find anything. To give up was not his nature so he continued in vain for nearly twenty minutes. Finally, frustration overwhelmed him and he kicked the

wall. Still, nothing happened. He collapsed on the floor, landing hard enough to hear the sound resonate down the hallway. Panic was beginning to well up in his chest but he tried to remember to take

deep breaths. A professional would not become angry just because the answers were not obvious.

Tilting his head back against the opposite wall he stared up at the ceiling. He needed a distraction. The chances of him single-handedly finding Chrissie were not good. He hadn't seen her recently and

could only wonder what she looked like. She was probably taller, he figured. He fantasized for a moment what she looked like. It was then it occurred to him that Chrissie might not want to see him. She

certainly wouldn't like him imagining her but she might have moved on. Suddenly it dawned on him that perhaps the reason she had stopped writing was that she had found someone else. The painful

thoughts made the ground feel colder and his hunger pain grow stronger. He couldn't afford to lose hope now.

He stared upwards at the ceiling. It was a low ceiling, probably only seven feet tall but it was to dark to tell for sure. At the end of the long hallway a small window allowed only a few dim grey rays in.

Staring absent minded at the wall he began to laugh. What an interesting predicament he had before him. To think after searching for leads for such a long time to have another dead end. Maybe the police

had searched this end of the opera house already. Closing his eyes he let the colors fade away. Blinking rapidly he let the colors flash between dark and light. Then something caught his attention. The

colors were not right. A small square at the very top of the wall was darker than the area around it. It was such a small difference it would not be apparent unless it was being searched for.

He couldn't get off the ground fast enough. Afraid his eyes were playing tricks on him he reached up and touched the square. The wood was softer. Pressing on it he pushed one of the boards up.

Carefully he slipped his hand upwards. He felt the space and found a small lever. Quickly he flipped it not quite sure what it was. A low rumble startled him and he lost his grip on the lever and staggered

backwards a few steps. Swearing under his breath he gazed with awe as the wall opened. He scratched his head wondering how he could have missed the cracks in the wall before sighing and climbing

excitedly through the opening. He couldn't see what was ahead so he trustingly launched his body forward, anticipating and impact. His feet dropped onto a stone floor a couple of feet down. The stones

were slick and he reached out for the nearest wall to keep from falling over. Almost magically the wall closed behind him leaving behind only darkness. His breath froze for a moment as he let the events

sink in. Angrily he knocked his head on the wall, agonizing over his lack of wisdom. He had not brought a candle.

He was honestly unsure of what to do. After a long stretch of silence and darkness he finally decided he had no choice but to move forward into the darkness. Carefully he took a small step forward.

Nothing happened. Muttering, he began to slowly make his way forward still clutching the wall for balance. Every few steps he would lose his balance and have to steady his self with the wall. Slowly his

eyes adjusted to the dark and he began to be able to make out shapes. His confidence grew: if his eyes could adjust to the darkness there must be a light source not too far off in the distance. The silence

was beginning to make him uneasy. He could not even hear a rat. Then he saw it. Just around the corner was light. He could see the shadows of a flame.

Racing around the corner he stopped short. A horrific sight awaited him. A man stood holding a torch, waiting for him. The man did not resemble a human but a demon dressed in black. His face was

covered except for his eyes and lips. The expression of the man frightened Julian. It was not fitting to describe it as a frown. The demon's displeasure was obvious. He was perfectly poised and looked

positively deadly. Julian's heart began to beat rapidly. It did not take much time for him to decide he did not want to fight with this man. He looked like he had stepped out of a nightmare and stood

waiting to escort him to hell. Was he dreaming?

The nightmare stepped forward. "She is not here."

Julian closed the distance between them. "I don't mean any harm. I just want to know if she's all right."

The man spat. "She's fine. You shouldn't have come."

He swallowed. "Where is she? I just want to be with her."

"That can be arranged." He stepped back suddenly and hit the wall. The ground beneath Julian disappeared and suddenly he felt himself falling. A second later he hit the ground engulfed once again in darkness.

A light flickered in front of him. Jumping to his feet he raced towards it. It disappeared. Behind him a low rumble exploded into a roar. Water rushed in and swept him off his feet. Coughing and sputtering

he tried to get to his feet but another wave of freezing water pulled him under again.

A determination to not be defeated warmed his freezing legs and feet as adrenaline filled his body. Instead of trying to stand he kicked his legs as he swam forward, surfacing for air. The water wasn't

deep enough to support him after a moment and dumped him on the ground. Shivering he stood up and began running, terrified of what awaited him. He had to find Chrissie. His arms blocked the force of

walls as he ran into edges but when he tripped over his feet the stone cut his face. Sticky blood oozed out of his forehead. Ignoring the lightheaded feeling and aching pain of his head he kept forward. He

reached a staircase. After a moment of figuring out what it was in the dark he managed to crawl up it. A door sat at the top of the stairs. Reaching for the doorknob he found it wasn't closed and pushed it

open. He stepped through slowly seeing candle light. Something hard hit him in the back of the head and the room began to spin. The dull pain spread over his head and he dropped to his knees before

laying his injured head on the floor and passing out cold.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"Oh!" Julian moaned loudly as he swiftly rolled over onto his side. His heavy head ached painfully. Closing his eyes for a moment he racked his brain, trying to remember what he been doing. Sharply he jerked his stiff body up into a sitting position when he was able to think clearly and remembered his purpose. Immediately a wave of dizziness washed over him.

"Lay down," a voice from behind him commanded.

Obediently he laid his aching head back down on the cool stone floor, beginning to feel nauseated. He bit back another moan, unable to remember a time when he had felt more miserable.

The stranger cautiously crept up beside him. Kneeling on the ground she examined his injuries, running her small hands across his head. Producing a damp cloth, she began to wash away the dried blood on his forehead. Her touch ignited fiery pain but he did not cry out. Instead he bit down on his lip, determined not to show how much pain he was in.

"You will just bleed more." She noted sounding tired. "Stop biting your lip monsieur." She paused for a moment still gently rubbing the cloth back and forth on his head. "If you don't mind me asking, what were you trying to do?"

He shivered, feeling the chill from his soaked clothes. Through the darkness a cold draft blew through, from where he did not know. Opening an eye he took in her face as best he could. The shadows hid all but her most predominate features. "I was looking…" he began slowly. Then it hit him and he felt like an idiot. "for you, Chrissie! Oh my God!" He was on his feet in seconds. Nervously she took a step back.

Unaware of her hesitance he pulled her into a giant bear hug. "Thank God you're alright. I was so worried!" He sat her stiff body back against the wall and gazed at her lovingly. The lighting hadn't improved but he even in the dark he could see she had grown. She no longer looked like a little girl. He was unable to hide his spreading grin. "I'm so glad I found you!"

She bit her lip, overwhelmed. "Actually I found you. I'm sorry I hit you…I thought you were someone else." She looked and felt incredibly guilty.

He rubbed the back of his head and noticed a bump had already formed. "You did that? You sure hit hard for a girl, Little Chrissie."

Disbelief flirted across her face. "Julian?" She cried out staring into his familiar eyes.

"Who else?" He grinned even wider ignoring the throbbing in his head.

She shook her head still in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"Someone has to keep you out of trouble though it looks like I'm a little late."

Playfully she punched him the arm. "You came a long way for that. Besides, I was very close to finding my own way out of here. I don't need you to save me."

"I'm sure you were but I can't let you have all the fun. Though do you mind if I ask where we are exactly?"

She shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I don't know where we are or how to get up from here, assuming we are underground."

"How long have you been here?"

"Not very long," She admitted. "Less than few hours I think. I would have left but he said there was a lot of water traps and sadly I can't swim. Also I can't reach the torch and I wouldn't have wanted to wander around in the dark."

"Who told you?"

Her face darkened. Speaking so quietly he could barely hear her she asked, "Do you believe in nightmares?"

The pieces clicked together in his mind. For a moment he was unable to speak. When he did all he could manage was a hoarse whisper. "That man, that demon I saw, he was the one they spoke of."

Her eyes drifted from his face to the ground. She couldn't look into his searching eyes. "His name is Erik but he's known as the phantom of the opera. I'd never heard the stories before I came here but of course I didn't believe when they told me. Now…" her voice faltered. "Now I have no choice.

Lightly he touched her arm but wanted to pull her into a fierce embrace and never let go. She had faced so much in the past week. A normal person would have been lost in fits of hysteria but she stood calm and quiet waiting. What was she waiting for: a question or an answer, a rescue or company, a friend or a lover? He did not know.

"Please tell me, he didn't hurt you in any way did he?"

Mustering a brave smile she finally met his gaze. "I'm fine Julian, just tired, hungry, cold and dirty. My mother is going to throw a fit when she sees me."

"I'm sure she'll be so happy to see you she won't even mind that you smell like a horse."

"That's not fair! It's not my fault." She punched his arm again surprised at how much she had missed him.

He shrugged. "Alright but lets get out of here while I can still breathe." He started to tug on her arm.

"No Julian we can't. There are traps out there." She was suddenly alarmed. "It's too dangerous. We'd never find our way out."

"Oh so waiting for him to show up is safer? Chrissie I saw him and trust me, he's a killer. I saw it in his eyes."

"You don't know that. He hasn't killed me yet."

He was beginning to get frustrated. "Why are you defending him?"

"I don't know. Please Julian, listen to me. It's not that I like him, I wish he was dead. Honestly I think we should stay here until we have a better plan."

He could detect the desperate tone in her voice. He sighed and leaned back against the wall, breaking contact with her. "If that's the way you want it, we'll stay until we can figure out a better plan. But if he so much as lays a hand on you, I'll kill him."

"Fine," outwardly she rolled here eyes and responded with, "have fun." Inwardly she felt her stomach lurch at the thought of a fight. Sudden exhaustion swept over her. Unable to suppress a yawn she knelt on her knees and closed her eyes. It had been a long time since she had slept for more than a few hours. Again she yawned but this time she stretched out, content to sleep. Somehow Julian's presence made her feel safer and not so alone. It was a strange feeling and completely irrational. Erik would come sooner than later and the danger was obvious. Shaking the thoughts from her head she wished she could sleep forever and never wake up.

Almost as if he could read her thoughts he sat down next to her. "You're tired," he observed. "You can sleep if you want. I'm not leaving."

For once she didn't argue. She quickly fell asleep, her cheeks pressed to the cold stones floor.

Julian watched her slow, even breaths. He wondered if he was really with her or if it was a dream. The past week had been a blur. Two weeks ago he hadn't even given a thought to her but now it was obvious to him their time apart hadn't changed his feelings for her. She was even more beautiful now. Not even a visit to hell had tainted her perfect beauty. It was true she wasn't an image of her mother but beauty came in all shapes and sizes, he decided soundly. He would not allow her another visit to hell though. The phantom devil would have to answer to him first. Anger clouded his mind as he imagined what he would do to him when he appeared. If he had been with her, the man would never have touched her. None of this would have ever happened. Even if Chrissie was alright he couldn't help but blame himself for what had happened. Logic contradicted him but it made no difference. Now he was with her and would not leave. So he waited with her, trying to figure out a plan.

Hours later they sat and laughed, having rejected all of the plans they come up with. His walk was silent and they did not hear Erik until he was standing above them. Smiles disappeared instantly as three stars met together, all clearly upset.

Julian rose to his feet, finding he was several inches shorter than the man. "You had no right." He sputtered, feeling Chrissie stand behind him. Her head only reached the top of his shoulders.

"You can't keep me here forever." She addressed Erik angrily. "He found me and we both know it's only a matter of time before others follow."

Erik smiled, his twisted grin foreshadowing the doom of his words. "Hide and seek is very childlike." He agreed. "I have a proposition: why not widen the playing field?"

"Good monsieur," Julian began attempting to swallow back his need to kill. "She is right. The best option for you is to turn a blind eye. Our return would create enough confusion to work to your advantage."

Erik snarled. "That's very noble of you but my plan will attract more attention than that. It's only fitting for an opera house."

Julian caught the depth of his words. "You're considering a Romeo and Juliet parallel?" His upper lip twitched.

"Something like that." His lips turned down into another sadistic grin.

Behind Julian, Chrissie's breathing quickened. Her expression was not one of fear but of great agitation. Her body was rigid and even the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The natural impulse to run tempted to upset her stillness but she fought the urge, keeping her feet planted firmly on the ground. She stared forward into his dead, cold eyes her fists clenched at her sides.

Julian was even more angered than Chrissie but attempted to keep his expression and voice clear.

"Chrissie," he spoke at a medium volume never taking his eyes off of Erik. "I need you to listen to me and not ask questions." Emotion threatened to break through.

"What is it?" His response was brief and her voice was hoarse.

Carefully watching Erik for any signs of movement he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Run."

She took a step back but stared up into his face.

"Trust me Chrissie, run. Don't look back." He spoke calmly as if they were not in danger.

For a short moment Chrissie debated her options. She could run but Erik could easily block her path. They stood over in the right corner of the room so she would have to run across the wall and then forward a few meters to reach the doorway. It was closed but thankfully not locked. Outside the door was a stairway that descended into darkness. The chances of her finding her way out of the tunnels in the darkness before she killed herself were slim. However if she stayed the chances were almost nonexistent. Erik was insane. When life was placed in the hands of insanity only tragedy could occur. If she was alone the decision would have been easy but now Julian was in the picture. She couldn't live with herself if his death was on her hands. Staying wouldn't help him either though. The odds didn't look good but she had to try.

Erik still hadn't moved. He watched them both silently, grinning, sensing their confusion.

"Chrissie," Julian began but unexpectedly she took off running. Erik's reflexes were fast and he reached out to grab her, locking his arms around her waist. She let out a scream as she struggled to get out of his hold. Julian was behind her though and charged into Erik causing him to momentarily lose his focus and drop Chrissie. She picked herself up in a second and fled the room. Fear pounded in her heart as she raced away into the darkness hearing the sounds of the struggle.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Chrissie ran blindly into the darkness, her lungs burning as she quickly inhaled the damp air. She stumbled over the uneven ground but managed to stay on her feet. Inside her chest her heart raced as she wondered what was happening behind her. The further she ran, the more muffled the sounds became. She didn't dare look back.

Suddenly she smacked her head against something hard. It was to dark to determine if it was a door or a wall but she didn't waste time trying to find out. The shock and impact of the crash left her dizzy and disoriented but she ignored the pain and stumbled on. She wandered around in the dark without any more trouble. However, she was hopelessly lost.

She stepped down a step without realizing the drop was much further down. Suddenly she was falling and landed several feet below in a pool of water. The water was too deep to stand in. Gasping and inhaling water she pushed her way to the surface. The moment she was up, she began to sink again. Terror griped her soul. Desperate not to drown, she wildly kicked her legs and kept her chin above the water. Knowing she couldn't last suspended in the water for long, she ran her hands across the wall, trying to find something to grab on too. Her hands secured a loose rock that protruded from the wall. It wasn't strong enough to support her though and broke off, throwing Chrissie back into the icy water with a piercing scream. The sound echoed off the alls. For one long sickening moment she did not resurface. The small glint of hope that Julian had brought with him, vanished. She was alone again. Pushing once again to the surface she coughed and sputtered, clearing her lungs. This time she was unable to find anything to grab on too. The stone was smooth, slippery and even. Deadly almost. Fear pulsed through her heart.

Could life be slipping away from her again? The water was freezing and it hurt her head to think. Something went off in her and a wave of panic hit her. Just as soon as it came on it vanished. In its place a distant memory formed. It was not the first time she had seen a well. She felt the years slip away and suddenly she was a little girl again, laughing and holding her grand-père's hand. They had spent many afternoons together strolling in the open air. Chrissie had always loved the outdoors and Grand-père had found the fresh air improved his health. Hand in hand they had strolled, the most magnificent couple to set foot in the meadows. One morning, quite by accident, they had stumbled upon a well.

. "What is it?" She had asked having never seen one before. She stood on her tip toes trying to see over the edge. She was still to short

"It's a well, Little Chrissie." He swooped her up in his arms and together they had peered down.

"Where does the water come from?" She'd wanted to know immediately.

He'd though for a moment. "I believe the water is from an underground water source, like a spring or a creek."

Her dream faded away and her brain woke up. The river! There was only one water source: the river that led to Erik's lair. If she could swim to the bottom of the well she might be able to find a way out. She knew there was a door located somewhere that led out because the cross madame had used it. He would still be with Julian so he wouldn't be able to prevent her from finding it. It was all really simple. The chances of her making though were slim. But what other choice did she have? No one knew where she was, not even Julian who was busy fighting for his life. She tried not to think about that. No, she had to try. It was sink or swim.

The water was dark and threatening but the chill was making it even more difficult for Chrissie to keep her head above the water. She mentally recalled the times she'd watched the other children swim. They would hold their breath and dive under the water, shoving it away with their arms and kicking it behind with their legs. Could it really be that difficult? She'd only have one shot so she had to make it work. Trying to stay calm she practiced taking deep breaths. Finally, she filled her lungs with air and dove down into the darkness. Downwards she went copying the movements she had seen done before, kicking and shoving the water aside. Finding the bottom of the well she felt around for an opening. She found it but needed more air. She pushed off the ground and glided to the surface. Taking another breath she dove back down she headed straight for the opening and managed to squeeze through. The weight she had lost during her stay with Erik had proved to be beneficial. If she had been any larger she would not have been able to fit through the narrow opening. On the other side she pushed off the ground, heading straight for the surface. It took longer than she had thought though and her lungs burned, desperate for air. Nausea attacked her as she blew out all her air, floating slowly upwards. Exhaustion hit her hard but from somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered she had to keep kicking. After what felt like a very long time she surfaced. She coughed up water, gagging loudly and gasping for air. Her eyes hurt from trying to see through the water but she squinted, looking for something to grab on too. A ledge was near and she threw herself towards it and latched on. Exhaustion filled her muscles. For several minutes she was unable to move. Minutes later she hadn't regained enough energy to try to swim again but the shivers shook her entire body. She had to keep moving.

Eyeing the ledge she could see it stretched along with the wall. She crawled across the ledge, afraid of the consequences if she didn't move. If the chill didn't kill her, Erik might find her. Her progress was slow as she edged across the ledge and her hands were soon raw from gripping the harsh ledge. Eventually land was in sight and the familiar features reassured her quaking fears. When the water was shallow enough she jumped off the ledge and raced to the land with a sudden burst of energy. She threw herself down the on the dry land face first, her whole body quivering. Danger or no danger she wasn't moving anytime soon.

Fifteen minutes later she finally drug herself up on her feet. Her dress was heavy with water and her heart was not hopeful. Slipping behind the mirrors and candles she trespassed into Erik's personal room. It had been an unspoken rule that she was never to go there. Thankfully he had not returned yet. Careful not to upset anything but unknowing leaving behind a trail of water she crossed across the room looking for the door. It wasn't as hidden as she had suspected. Rushing forwards she grabbed the handle and pushed it open. On the other side was yet another tunnel. It wasn't as dark as the previous tunnels so she mustered up some more bravery and stepped through. The door closed without a sound behind her. As she walked through the tunnel it grew lighter. Another door awaited her but thankfully it was not locked. She pushed it open and was greeted by blinding sunlight.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Chapter 24

The light swirled all around her, blinding and caressing her with its intense rays. It felt like it had been ages since she had felt its warmth on her cheeks. Blinking her eyes rapidly she caught glimpses of her surroundings. She was in an alley way. A busy street was several yards ahead of her. A sudden sense of relief and security surged through her. Not wanting to waste a single moment she started towards the street breaking into a run. The ground was cold on her bare feet but after everything, she was used to it. Her soaked dress stuck to her legs and hung on her small frame in an immodest fashion but she didn't care. All that mattered was getting help. She had to help Julian.

Bystanders stared at her as she ran through the street, haphazardly dodging the carriages and pedestrians. An important looking man caught up with her and she stopped. He was wearing a uniform. She guessed he was a police officer.

"Mademoiselle, are you alright?" He gruffly asked her.

She was out of breath but gathered up the courage to speak to him. She didn't want him to jump to conclusions based on her appearance. "I'm looking for my family Monsieur Raoul de Changy and Christine."

Understanding appeared in his eyes but he wasn't fully convinced yet. "What is your name?"

"Fealty de Changy but my family calls me Little Chrissie." Her response was prompt and brief. "I've been kidnapped."

The next twenty minutes by passed in a blur. He transferred her to another officer who reunited her with her family for a brief moment. Afterwards she was suddenly ushered into a parlor for questioning with another officer. They wanted to waste no time in getting her story straight. Her main concern, however, was not for herself but for Julian. She explained the dilemma to the head officer, D'aubigne. He spoke with another officer to set up an armed search party. He promised her they were doing all they could to locate him but she wasn't convinced. He did not seem very sincere but had been eager for the location of the tunnels. She guessed he had other motives and concerns than for finding an insignificant boy.

A clock ticked in the background. Sitting on a plaid sofa she waited for D'aubigne to begin asking questions, unsure of what to expect. There were a few other witnesses in the room but her family was not present at the insistence D'aubigne. She was offered some coffee and than instructed to begin her story.

Feeing very unsure of herself, she began her story. "The day I was kidnapped I was walking around in the halls. A man I'd never seen before began to follow me. I was frightened and began to run but he chased me. Suddenly Erik appeared out of nowhere and…"

"Who is Erik?" he interrupted.

"My captor." The word sent shivers down her back. Someone had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders but she was yet to change her clothes. She sorely wished for a warm bath and a soft bed to sleep on.

"What did Erik do to you?" D'aubigne prompted.

She sighed loudly. "I don't know what happened right after that. I fainted." Her cheeks turned red at the confession. "When I woke up we were on a little boat. He took me to his lair and I'd been there until today. It was surrounded by water so I couldn't escape."

For the next hour he continued to question her. She answered the best she could but felt completely humiliated. It wasn't fair that she had to reveal such intimate details about her stay. Repeatedly she asked about Julian but she received the same answer each time: a group was out searching for him and would report when they had some information.

Finally he released her. Raoul and Christine were waiting just outside the parlor and pounced on her the second she was free.

Christine hugged her daughter tight, crying and mumbling. "Oh my God I was so worried! I thought you were dead; don't ever do that to me again! I thought…oh my God! You're safe."

Raoul cried too but not as much as Christine. "We were so afraid we'd lost you." He stroked her face lovingly. "I'm so sorry I wasn't a good father. I hope someday you can forgive me." His voice trailed off.

Trying hard not to cry herself she smiled. "It's okay, I'm just glad to see you again." Fear spoiled her reunion though. It was crammed into her chest and occupied her every conscience thought. Was Julian still alive?

She didn't find out till much later. Her parents sensed her overwhelming discomfort in the public eye and took her to her bedroom. Her maid Jenny was thrilled to see her again, having suspected the worse. At the first sight of Chrissie she ordered a bath to be prepared and located warm clothing. As she undressed, Chrissie released how cold she was. Her body began to quiver but Jenny all but shoved her into the tub. Once she was settled Jenny began to scrub the dirt and grime off. Trying to wash her hair was a much harder task. Her hair was knotted horribly and it was difficult to clean the dirt away. Brushing the tangles smooth took a long time and the water had lost its heat by the time she was done. Chrissie was eager to dress in a soft nightgown. Once again feeling the effects of the exhaustion she curled up on the bed and buried her head in the soft fabric. Sleep did not come to her though. All she could think of was Julian.

A soft knock woke her out of her day dreams.

"Come in!" She called.

Raoul stepped into the room, flanked closely by Christine. "The officers have found Julian." He informed her, smiling slightly. "He's bruised but alive and well."

Relief overwhelmed Chrissie. "Where is he? Can I see him?"

"Goodness Chrissie, you are in no condition to visit and neither is he. You need to rest and regain your strength." Christine gently scolded.

A second thought entered her mind. "What about Erik?"

A mix of pain and fear appeared on both Christine and Raoul's face. "There's no sign of him" Raoul answered. A few more words were exchanged but he left her with the instructions that she was to try to sleep. She wasn't feeling very optimistic but it didn't take very long for her to fall into a deep slumber. She slept through the afternoon till late the next morning. It was Jenny who finally woke her. Sleep clouded her thoughts but she was surprised to learn she had slept for so many hours.

Jenny already had a bath waiting. After so many rough days simple luxuries were a blessing and she greatly appreciated her diligent maid.

After soaking her sore muscles she was quickly dressed and ushered into the parlor. Her mother and a doctor stood waiting for her to arrive. Christine smiled at her daughter.

"I hope you are feeling well rested." Her voice was small and Chrissie could tell she was on the verge of tears, yet again.

"The police want you to be examined for injuries by a physician. Your father and I agreed it would be for the best." Christine quietly excused herself.

The physician was a gruff older man with rough hands. He brought a pad of paper with him and took notes on her bruises. Each time he questioned her she weighed the consequences of the truth. She did not want her mother to have to worry anymore than she has already so she left out some details, such as the time Erik had lost his temper and tossed her like a rag doll across the room. The physician nodded mutely at her vague explanations, writing swiftly. Apart from their breathing, the scratch of his pen on the paper was the only sound in the room.

In the end he prescribed am ointment for her feet, insisted that she eat heartily for several days and pronounced her healthy. Almost as suddenly as he arrived, he disappeared.

Taking a deep breath she wandered into the next room to find her parents. She was dreading the discussion that was about to take place. Her parents sat together, chatting quietly almost as nervous as she was. They stood up as she approached them but the tension was visible. Chrissie broke the awkward silence. The constant silence was beginning to annoy her.

"You have a lot of explain to me."

Raoul sighed. "We'd hoped to spare you, Little Chrissie. There was never a need for you to share in our nightmare."

"I'm not so little anymore." She reminded him, sounding cross.

"How very true you are." He sighed again. "It was a very long time ago. Your mother and I were young, only a few years older than you are now."

Christine spoke. "You met him Chrissie. He tricked me into believing he was an angel of music sent by my father in heaven. I was only a girl when I first heard him and believed his every word. I couldn't have been more wrong.

"He fell madly in love with her and tried to seduce her. A few months before the Opera house disaster I met your mother. As you already know we had been childhood friends. When I began to see your mother he became furious. He wanted to keep her under his spell."

"Your father didn't believe me about how dangerous he was. I was frightened but no one believed me."

"I fell in love quickly and stopped courting other ladies. The phantom disappeared for three months and we became engaged. In the end we had to fight him to get him to let her go. We left Paris after you were born, six months later. This is the first time we have been back to the Opera House." He let his voice trail off, studying her face for a reaction.

She was too shocked to say anything. Instead she just turned on her heels and ran to her bedroom. Much like a child, she slammed the door shut and threw herself on her bed waiting for the tears to come. They never did.

Time passed on as she laid face first on the bed, staring at the sky blue blanket. A knock sounded on the door but Chrissie ordered the visitor away, suspecting it was Christine or Raoul.

Jenny slipped through the door. "But mademoiselle, a young man is here for you." She protested.

Immediately Chrissie jumped to her feet and ran around Jenny to find Julian in the next room.

"Julian!" She cried running to him. "I was so worried about you!" She gave him a big hg.

He grinned in reply. "You shouldn't worry about me. Your phantom shook me up a bit but I scared him off."

Stepping back, she looked him in the eye. Her words contained no accusation but her eyes were full of questions. "What happened?"

He motioned to a couch a few feet away and together they sat down. In the light of day she could see his numerous cuts and bruises. She noticed for the first time his entire left hand was wrapped tightly in bandages.

"I didn't expect him to be such a hard fighter. He seemed older and slower but that was not true." He flexed his good hand without realizing it. "It was a violent fight; I'm glad you didn't stay to watch."

"Tell me Julian, how did you win?"

He averted his eyes. "I'm not entirely sure to be honest." She could tell in admitting his ego was hurting. "I was going for another round of attacks but suddenly he was just gone. He fled."

Sudden dread seized Chrissie.

"I'm so sorry Chrissie." He whispered even though there was no one close enough to listen in.

She found her voice. "It's alright, thank you for letting me know." Her voice sounded monotone. She avoided his gaze.

"I found out my parents used to know him." She mused.

"What?"

"Back before the opera disaster they used to know each other."

He was confused. "They were friends or something?"

She nodded. "He loved my mother."

"That's why he took you."

"No Julian, he didn't know who I was." Remembering brought a smile to her face. "When he found I was a de Changy it looked like he was going to die of fright."

They laughed together, ignoring the tension that had settled into the room.

"What do you think is going to happen?" She asked suddenly, her voice soft and smooth.

Moving his hand on top of hers, he thought for a moment. Finally he shrugged, "You tell me Chrissie. You know him better than any of us."

"I don't know Julian. I don't know."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Eventually a reluctant Julian left Chrissie to go rest. Remembering what the doctor had said, Chrissie realize she was hungry, unable to recall her last meal. Raoul came to the rescue, bringing her some bread, cheese and fruit. He and Christine joined her for the midday meal. The conversation was limited to plans for the journey home. Christine was slightly unpleasant, exclaiming she had had enough of the Opera Populaire and wanted to leave immediately, with only a few shopping stops along the way. However, Raoul felt it would be best if Chrissie rested for a few days before starting the long distance home. After a few rounds of debate they compromised on staying two more nights and leaving the next morning.

For most of the conversation Chrissie listened without thinking, simply chewing and breathing. She was tired, not physically fatigued but emotionally worn out. Her parents looked tired as well, the product of many sleepless nights. They looked older somehow; Christine's soft baby skin had begun to wrinkle in the corners and blue pockets sagged under her eyes. Her delicate hands and long fingers lay neatly in her lap, folded together without as much as a twitch of movement to disturb the stillness. But even so, Christine was just as beautiful as ever, in a delicate, dark way. It was a beauty that was always an inch out of Chrissie's grasp. But her mother was so frail! Chrissie had been the sickly child but even after everything she was stronger than Christine. Poor, poor, frail Christine, the grand opera singer who only had to open her mouth and heaven would flow from her lips. A gift that had not been passed down to the frail dancer whose sole excitement in life involved being stolen away by a mad man. Her name would never be written in stars or called extraordinary. No, Chrissie would always be the disappointment of the Diae line. But if nothing else, at least she would always have her will, strength and determination. That would have to be enough.

Everyone in the Opera Populaire was happy to see Chrissie again. Many guests had already departed, including Meg's family. Later that evening Chrissie put on a smile and braved the inquiring crowd. She answered most questions with a nod or a single word to the disappointment of the all.

Twenty minutes into the evening, it happened. Chrissie stood in the center of the room next to Julian when Erik appeared in the crowd. Conversations paused mid-sentence and smiles froze. Even though few people knew who he was, his mere presence stirred up fear. He looked menacing and intense.

"Stay away." Chrissie hissed at him. He was the last person in the world she wanted to see. Her fear had melted away. She felt pure anger raging through her veins.

"Not so fast." He smiled a crooked smile. "You want to hear what I have to say first. I've solved your mystery." He did not sound nice at all.

A circle formed around Chrissie, Julian and Erik. Raoul and Christine joined them in the center and Madame Revel inched closer.

"Leave us!" Raoul firmly demanded, stepping in front of Chrissie to protect her.

But it was too late. The damage had been done. Chrissie did want to know what Erik had to say, and he could see it in her eyes.

"Not until I unveil your little secret." He scanned the faces in the crowd until he caught sight of Madame Revel. His gaze focused on her. To Raoul he said, "You know this woman, the mother of your child." His voice was musical.

"No," Christine grabbed Chrissie by the shoulders. "She's my daughter."

Raoul looked distinctively paler.

"What did you say?" Chrissie snapped. "Tell me!" She shouted at Erik. Her voice echoed off the walls.

But Erik didn't say anything more. He left in his usual fashion, departing with a laugh, leaving behind dozens of unanswered questions. "I won't be seeing you again." His voice echoed from above but there was no sight of him.

In desperation Chrissie turned to her father. "Is this true?"

Very slowly, he nodded.

Behind her, she heard Christine gasp.

"But how…" She stuttered, completely confused.

He sighed deeply as Catherine stepped closer. He turned to face his wife and took her hands in his. "The baby came too early. She didn't make it."

A tear spilled down Christine's pale cheek.

"Catherine was pregnant and gave birth to another baby girl the same night. She didn't have any way to support the child so I took her and claimed her as ours."

Chrissie's eyes got big. "My father," She began.

"I courted Catherine before meeting your mother. It wasn't until after we were engaged that I learned that Catherine was pregnant." He spoke softly, seeming sad.

"Chrissie," Catherine reached out to touch her arm. "I've missed you everyday." Her eyes were wet with tears.

Chrissie stared at the woman. Her brown eyes were foreign yet somehow familiar. She gazed upward and nearly gasped out loud. She shared the same shade of blond hair. Was it possible that this woman really could be her mother? The shock made her feel funny. From behind her she felt Christine wrap her arms around her, bury her face in her hair and begin to sob. In the distance she could hear muffled sounds of tears and Raoul's useless attempts to comfort. Three dozens conversations ran through the crowd, some people stepping out of the way, other's peering closer, trying to make sense of what went on. Then, Julian squeezed her hand and she remembered he was still there. Their eyes met and locked and they stood staring at each other for a long time. The music of the voices faded away until they were only left with each other and neither one minded a bit.

The next morning when Chrissie woke up, things were different. If Christine seemed fragile before, now she was completely shattered. She refused to speak to Raoul at all, and kept repeating, "Oh my baby," to Chrissie. The maids had been sent to work, rapidly packing. Arrangements had been made for the de Changy's to leave that afternoon.

Not wishing to spend anymore time with the depressed couple, she slipped away to go find Julian. They hadn't had a chance to talk about the night before and she couldn't wait to hear what he had to say. Almost as if fate had intervened, she ran into Catherine.

"Oh, hello Madame." Chrissie wasn't sure what to say to her.

Catherine smiled. "Hello Chrissie, I'm so glad I get to finally see you. How are you taking all this? It must be quite a shock." She sounded concerned.

"Yes, it is a shock." She tried to think of something else to say. "I'm not sure what to think now." She added, honestly.

"That's understandable." Catherine paused. "I know Raoul will probably want you to move on, but if you ever need anything or want to visit I would be thrilled to have you. I'm not wealthy by any means but what I have is yours, if you want."

"My mother needs me." Chrissie said, then realizing the irony of the statement. "Maybe someday I can visit." A sudden thought jumped into her head. "Can you sing?" She blurted.

Catherine began to laugh. "I can't sing a note. I don't hold a candle to Christine and her beautiful voice."

Chrissie grinned. "I can't sing either. I'll see you later. It was nice talking to you." She had spied Julian out of the corner of her eye. Feeling awkward, she quickly hugged Catherine before chasing Julian down.

"Julian! Slow down." She laughed as she caught up to him.

Together, they walked outside. The autumn wind blew hard. November would soon be over.

"What are you going to do now?" He asked her as they strolled in no particular direction.

She sighed. "I don't know. I suppose we will go home and my mother will cry all the time. I'll gossip with the servants in the kitchen while avoiding my tutor and parents."

"Do you really think after everything that has happened life will go back to the way it was?"

"In a way, I was relieved to learn that my mother isn't really my mother. There was always this pressure in my life to live up to her, but now I feel as if I don't have to worry about it anymore. I can't sing, but oh well. It's alright."

He took her hand and held it while they walked. "It's good that everything has worked out for you."

"What will you do now?"

"The first thing I'm going to do is buy a new mystery novel. Then, I'll find some stationary and write to you everyday."

She blushed. "I'm going to miss you, Julian. Promise me we'll visit whenever we can."

"Of course I promise." He stopped walking and stood in front of her. Carefully, he cupped her chin in his hand and softly kissed. She met his lips and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. The wind whipped around them, scattering the leaves at their feet. So much had happened in such a short time but even so, Chrissie knew things would be alright. The secrets were gone and now she could see clearly.

**Epilogue**

Chrissie and Catherine exited the café with their arms full of bread. A tall young man greeted them with a kiss and shared some of the burden.

"Julian!" Chrissie happily exclaimed. "You've grown ten centimeters, at least."

He chuckled, pulling her in for an awkward one arm hug. "The summer sun has magic growing rays, didn't you know?

The group climbed into the waiting carriage. It was a short drive to the small apartment Catherine lived in. Chrissie had arrived for the summer and Raoul had sent funds for food, repairs and clothing. The apartment was modest, but despite that Chrissie could see that Catherine loved it. In a way she did as well, the place had a certain charm to it. Dried flowers hung on the walls mixed with the scent of fresh baked bread filled the home as they entered in. Laying the bread on the table, the young people scampered into the living room to chat about their lives. Julian was working as a printing press apprentice in Paris, much to his father's displeasure. Chrissie had been attending a girl's preparatory school during the spring term and would return in the fall. Her sixteenth birthday had passed and she was maturing more with every passing month. Together, they laughed, enjoying every minute spent with each other.

Back home, Raoul and Christine had worked through their problems. With out Chrissie to keep her company, Christine was training young singers and entertaining more parties than ever. Raoul continued to work in management and on the side he composed music for Christine's students. Life wasn't perfect by any means but it was better than Chrissie ever remembered.

She had learned Catherine was a very kind woman. She worked hard to earn what she had, but was willing to share everything. Even though she had been wronged for many years, she did not hold a grudge against the de Changy's.

Chrissie treasured her time with together with Catherine. They became very close, not in a traditional mother daughter way, but as very close friends. Catherine taught many lessons to Chrissie about honesty, hard work and love and while they didn't always see eye to eye, Chrissie constantly wore a smile. Physically, she had recovered completely from her captivity, though she bore some emotional scars that were far from completely healed. After thinking hard, she decided what she wanted most out of her life was to discover her past, live for the future, and love in the present. With her parents at home, Catherine backing her up and Julian at her side she knew that no matter what happened, she would be alright. And she was just stubborn enough to make sure that it happened, just that way.


End file.
